Chimera
by Renaerys
Summary: Some are destined for greatness, others merely stumble upon it. But only the truly great have the courage to fight and bleed for their place under the sun. [History of the Bloody Mist's rise and fall through Mei's eyes. KisaMei, KakaMei]
1. Outcast

**Chimera, Chapter 1: Outcast  
**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto  
Rating: M  
World: Canon Ninjaverse

"I'm not interested in preserving the status quo; I want to overthrow it." - Niccoló Machiavelli

* * *

Mei Terumī was six years old when she witnessed her first kill.

She only remembered because the spray of blood across her face reminded her of the cool kisses left by breaking waves against the rocky shores of Kirigakure when the tide comes in, bringing with it the fisher boats and their daily haul. Except these kisses were warm and sticky, and the longer she stood there the more her face began to itch. She would never forget how easy and fluid he'd made it look. For a boy of nine, he was gifted beyond his years. Small wonder he would go down in history as the Monster of the Bloody Mist.

"The winner is Kisame Hoshigaki!" the proctor announced to the small crowd of gathered children and adult overseers.

A nudge at her side snapped Mei's attention from the carnage surrounding the young new graduate. His eyes were narrowed and unreadable as he glared at the mangled corpse of his opponent. The boy standing next to her tapped her hand and she looked down. He pressed a dirty cloth into her palm. It was damp from use, and when Mei looked up she noticed the faint smears of blood across his face, too. Biting her lip, she accepted the small gift and hastily wiped her face.

"Kisame Hoshigaki," came the soft-spoken voice of the venerated Fourth Mizukage, Yagura. "On behalf of the great Village Hidden in the Mist, I hereby congratulate you on your victory. From this day forth, you are an honored Genin. I expect you'll become an asset to me and my people."

Kisame bowed formally, a queer gesture considering he was covered in bone marrow and mud. A team of Chuunin on duty were already clearing the remains of his opponent, a fleshy boy of nine or ten years, out of the arena. Mei could only wonder how he'd managed to mutilate that corpse with only one curved kunai.

_They call him a monster, but all geniuses are._

"Thank you, Lord Mizukage," he said, voice raspy as though he'd forgotten how to talk.

The proctor, a thin man with stringy hair and a complexion like the underbelly of a toad, nodded and told Kisame he was dismissed for the day. He was called Shin'ichi, but no one ever called him that. It was always only 'sir' to his face. Like the others, Mei had learned early on to keep her head down and agree with everything he said. No sense in earning a beating for a slip up. Shin'ichi beckoned to the next round of contestants. No one in this year's graduating class was over the age of ten. Kiri was efficient like that—take them while they're young and green, all the better to harden the heart. Hearts of steel don't shatter and bleed.

Mei bit her tongue at a sudden involuntary urge to gag as she got a good whiff of the blood staining the faces of her classmates and herself. It took all the willpower in her tiny body not to, lest she draw the ire of the overseers. Next to her, golden eyes peered askance at her, almost accusatory. Mei kept her gaze steadfastly ahead. There would be time later, she thought—precious moments away from cold eyes and colder hands.

Four more hours of standing here, all in a neat line like good little school children, and they were finally dismissed. The rag she'd used to wipe her face was now dripping with the blood of the fallen. Yagura stood and congratulated the new graduates as the half that had fallen to their classmates and friends were carted off to watery graves.

"Let today be a lesson to all of you. Only the strong survive and make our village great. I look forward to the day the best among you join my shinobi ranks."

No one said anything; they just kept their eyes downcast. Yagura did not like to be looked in the eye by anyone he deemed beneath him, and Mei and the others were hardly better than dirt under his shoe, if even that.

"_Don't attract attention to yourself," _her father had told her. _"Stay ugly and unimportant, little rat, and maybe you'll make it out in one piece."_

It was the only kind gesture he'd ever offered her.

Hunching her shoulders and following closely behind the boy in front of her, Mei skittered out of the arena, small and invisible behind her short, auburn hair. Once outside, the boy with the golden eyes grabbed her hand and pulled her into a nearby alleyway before any of the overseers could catch them and come up with an excuse to dole out lashes. She let him tug her through the shadows, past faded red lanterns over back doorways and stray cats whose hungry yellow eyes followed their flight. They didn't stop until they were near the rocky shores, the fishermen's ward.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He nodded and they set off between the stalls and shacks concealing the day's wares. Sea salt hung in the mist rolling off the sea, and Mei took a deep breath. It was refreshing after the coppery tang of blood. The women in the streets passed them by, carrying baskets of clams and freshly pulled seaweed. Mei did not miss how they averted their eyes when they saw them. Blood on children's faces was a common sight, but the beast wearing a boy's skin was not.

"Utakata," Mei said, trying to ignore the flare of anger at their fear. "Over there."

"Smells good. Come on!" Utakata said, oblivious to the the civilians' stares. Or maybe he'd just learned to ignore them. Mei could never tell through the cheeky grins he wore like armor.

Ten minutes later the pair sat on a dock with their legs dangling over the edge above the rippling water, munching on fried squid rings. Mei sucked the grease from her fingers, uncaring that there was still some blood stuck under her nails from the earlier holocaust known as Academy Graduation. Around here, it was best to eat while one could instead of raising complaint. A boat pulled into the dock just then, and a group of fishermen moored her to a nearby pockmarked post. They started to unload their cargo, but as soon as they caught sight of Mei and Utakata not four feet away, they paused. Whispers drifted to Mei's ears upon chilly sea spray.

"...gotta sit here, o' all places?"

"...that boy..."

"...shoulda docked at Pier Four."

Mei glared at the whispering fisherfolk through salt- and blood-crusted bangs. Utakata sensed her mounting fury and put a hand on her wrist.

"Let's just go."

"No."

A familiar burning sensation swirled in her lungs as chakra began to build up and concentrate in her throat. Acid mist escaped her chapped lips in wisps of pale smoke. It curled around the nearest wooden post and melted it like ice under fire. The whispering fishermen suddenly became alarmed. They, like all the other civilians in this place, knew about the child terrors being trained up as part of the Bloody Mist's regimen, even if they didn't fully comprehend the powers of a shinobi. To them, it was all some kind of black magic, unnatural and not to be trifled with.

"Stop it."

Utakata grabbed a fistful of her shirt and shook it once to get her attention. Mei was startled out of her concentration, the interruption disrupting her chakra flow and canceling her technique. In the distraction, the fishermen had disconnected from the dock and jetted south a ways to the next dock.

"You shouldna done that," she pouted.

"You can't kill fishers. You'll get in trouble," Utakata said.

"You heard what they said."

"Yeah, I heard. I always hear. But if I killed everyone who looks at me funny, then everyone in Mist would be dead, even you."

Mei paused, wanting to tell him, 'No, you're wrong,' but she knew he wasn't. She'd feared him once, too, out of ignorance and blind adherence to the words of others. She rubbed her upper arm. Even after all these months, sometimes she could still feel the twisting pain of her father's bony fingers yanking her to and fro when he'd found out she associated with the Jinchuuriki.

"_Don't need you drawing more attention to us, little rat. I'll wring your neck before the Fourth wrings mine, mark my words."_

Mei never talked about her life with her father ever again. As a member of Yagura's council, he had an image to uphold. But Yagura was a crafty little worm. He surrounded himself with civilians and low-level shinobi like her father, unremarkable and completely forgettable. After the coup that happened years before her birth, the Fourth was too paranoid to keep high ranking shinobi around outside of his personal ANBU guard. If her father wasn't all the family she had left in the world, she wondered if she'd try to run away.

"Sorry," Mei said.

Utakata peered at her for a moment longer. At seven-years-old, he was older than her and thus wiser, a fact he liked reminding her of. It was better not to upset him, they all said, because the thing that lived inside him might come out to fight back. But Mei was certain he'd never try to hurt her. She was his only friend, after all.

"'S okay." The grin he flashed her didn't reach his eyes. "C'mon. I'll walk you home."

Mei nodded and wiped her mouth. The acidic mist always made her lips itch after she used it, and she didn't want her father finding out. He hated it when she did anything related to ninjutsu. It was simply a reminder of why they had no family anymore.

"Okay."

Fog followed them like slow waves, beating them onwards as they trudged back to the lives they'd escaped for a few precious hours.

* * *

"Mamoru Uzumaki."

"He led the Rebellion of the Five Seas."

"Good. And his eldest son?"

She hesitated. "Kiyoshi. Um, he killed the Lord of Talessa and took his castle."

"Don't say 'um', girl. Either you know it or you don't."

Mei bit the inside of her cheek, tongue growing hot with the power of the sun resting dormant within her. But she held herself back. "Yes, Father."

Yuu Hanada peered down at her over his hooked nose, green eyes looking for the slightest hint of insubordination. He was a middle-aged man with more gray hairs than blond, weathered skin like beaten leather from too much sand and salt exposure, and stubble that grew in patches reminiscent of prepubescent boys. Mei had inherited her mother's clan name in honor of her manifest bloodline limits as befitted respectable Mist shinobi. Yuu, who was more likely to cut himself than any enemy with a curved kunai, married into the clan until it was decimated.

Even in her young mind, Mei knew he blamed her for it all, from her mother's death on her birthing bed to the subsequent elimination of the rest of the clan upon the discovery of Mei's potential for greatness (or terror) unmatched by any other living Terumī. Never before had the family produced a child with access to _both _its secret bloodline techniques. Yagura, seeing an opportunity to remind everyone of his ruthless ways, ordered the rest of them executed. Why keep twenty when one alone will suffice? Yuu was spared not for his position in Yagura's council or even for his lack of blood relation to his wife's clan, but because he was a weak man and no threat. Yagura liked to keep mementos of his great deeds.

"This should all be second nature to you," her father prattled on. "If you're going to be one of the Fourth's personal guards one day, you'll have to know these things. How else will you be able to assess a threat born of old grudges or past wrongs?"

"Yes, Father."

"If only you weren't so slow. Well, there's nothing to it but to keep at it. Am I clear?"

Mei nodded. "Yes, Father. I'll try harder next time."

"You better. Now go, leave me."

Mei rose and left the study as quickly and soundlessly as her little feet could carry her. Once out of sight, she broke into a jog down the stone hallways and followed the winding corridor past closed doors that would likely never be opened again. It was cold in here without any people to fill the empty spaces. Sometimes, she would make up stories about the relatives who'd once lived behind those closed doors. An uncle, reticent but kind, who would have spoiled Mei rotten for being born a rare female in the clan. A cousin, gifted with inborn talent and sometimes scary, but willing to set aside time to help her become a better shinobi. And her mother, a caring woman whose strength was surpassed only by her love for the daughter she'd never known.

Mei hurried to her small room a little faster. It was trouble to dwell on those thoughts. Her father had caught her staring at one of the locked doors once, fantasies getting the better of her, and had smacked her hard across the cheek for it.

"_Shinobi don't cry. It's bad enough you're a woman, but I won't have you acting like one."_

Reaching her room, Mei closed the door behind her and let out a shuddery breath. Here she could be alone, free from her father's vacuous eyes and the strange ghosts lurking in rooms she could not enter. The room was Spartan and unremarkable. A small, twin bed sat against the far wall with a squat chest beneath to house her scant shinobi gear. There was one window with polished, wooden shutters—rosewood. For all the wealth of the Terumī clan, Mei's father never seemed keen on spending any of it. But living in an empty house full of trapped shadows had been the only life she'd ever known. Mei had no use for nice clothes anyway, not when she dragged them through sea and sand training at the Academy.

After shutting her door (she didn't lock it because her father hated when she did), Mei walked to the large, antique mirror she'd hauled in from what used to be a powder room. The girl staring back at her had ratty auburn hair down to her chin and a chubby face. Even in the dim light of a bedside lamp, the green of her eyes was bright. But it wasn't her own reflection she liked to look at. Small hands traced the painstakingly carved designs in the brass frame of the mirror. There were shells, hundreds of them, seemingly fused into the metal work—so intricate was the design. As her fingers ran across their grooves, Mei wondered if her mother had touched this very mirror once.

Tapping on her window drew her attention, and Mei cautiously peeked through the shutters. A dark figure, short and blurry through the thick fog, looked up at her. She didn't need to guess the identity of the person waiting beneath her window; only one person ever came to visit her.

"Come out!" Utakata whispered through cupped hands.

"I can't. Father'll find out."

The man had begun checking in on her late at night without warning since she started at the Academy. Unwilling to risk a smack in the face or worse should he discover her out of bed at all hours of the night, Mei instead opted to drag out her days at the Academy and return as late as was permissible. But at times like these, when her father was in a sour mood and she felt a little lonely, it was nice to have someone to talk to.

"Then I'll come up," Utakata said, already starting up the wall to the second story.

"No, you can't!"

"Can _too_!" He was at her window in a matter of seconds, grinning through the damp mat of bangs that usually concealed half his face. "Don't make such a fuss."

There was no fighting him when he decided something. Mei retreated to her bed and hugged her knees to her chest.

"You shouldn't be here," she reiterated. "If Father finds out..."

"You worry too much. I'm a Jinchuuriki, I can do _anything_."

Mei frowned. "Not everything."

Utakata flopped down on the bed and stretched his legs across Mei's feet. "Oh, yeah? Like what?"

Mei stared at her knees, ashamed but empowered by the familiarity between them. He would understand, more than anyone. Surely.

"You can't be like them."

Utakata said nothing for a while as he appeared to doze with his hands folded behind his head. "Maybe I don't wanna be like them."

"You don't mean that."

"Yeah, I do."

Mei straightened her legs and pushed Utakata's legs off the bed in the process. He sat up.

"No, you don't," she bit out. "You don't wanna be an outcast. Being an outcast means being a target. You don't want that."

"No," he said, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. "_You _don't want that. I know you. I'm the _only _one who knows you. And I know you don't hafta be afraid. You're not alone."

"I _am_ alone!"

He leaned back, but she hadn't succeeded in disrupting him. Utakata slipped off the bed and glared down at her.

"Shut up," he said, his voice low and feral. "Don't you _dare_ say that. Like I'm not even here. Not _you_." He blinked rapidly and stared at the floor, shaking. "Not you."

Mei bit her lower lip to hide the hiccup in her throat. She scooted forward and reached for him.

"Don't!"

But she didn't let his outburst faze her. Slipping off the bed, Mei stood up and forced Utakata into a tight embrace. She buried her face in his shoulder, ashamed. It was a rare sight to see her cry, but Utakata was one of the privileged allowed to witness it. She blinked hard and held him close, even though he didn't return the embrace.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm sorry."

She held onto him, clung to him, even. And finally, he wrapped his arms around her.

"You're not alone," he whispered into her tangled hair.

Mei let out a tremored sob. Worthless. Absolutely worthless. He was _him_, a Jinchuuriki of the Bloody Mist, and she was crying to him about her worries.

_Worthless._

Maybe her father had a point.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his neck.

_You're not alone, either._

But the words never came, and Utakata had never been the type to need to hear them.

* * *

The next two years Mei spent at the Academy dragged on and on. She and Utakata rose in the ranks, but that was to be expected. Whispers followed her everywhere, but when Mei turned all she could find was silence. They were scared of her, she thought. No one wanted to face the girl with the sun in her veins. To hide their fear, they did the only thing they could: they picked on her.

"Hey look, it's Mei the Stray. When's the last time you bathed, pond scum?"

"Probably in the ocean with the Jinchuuriki. Water rats, the both of 'em."

"Aw what's wrong? You gonna cry to your mommy? Oh wait, you ain't got a mommy!"

Mei glared at them through her dirty bangs. Stupid boys, all of them. She was one of only a small handful of girls in the class, and somehow the boys had chosen her as their target dummy over the others. Why, she would never know. Surely they knew to keep a respectable distance, lest her acid mist boil the flesh off their bones.

"Come over here and say that," she said through the tears that threatened to fall.

"Hey, I think she really _is_ crying!"

Mei remained rooted to the spot, but her fingers itched to summon her chakra and melt those cruel smirks off their faces. "I'll kill you. I can do it."

"You're not the only one Yagura wants to graduate," said the biggest boy of the group. "The three of us're stronger than you, anyway."

"Three on one's a rip off," a voice said from directly behind Mei. "Let's even the odds a little."

Mei peered over her shoulder at what seemed to be a potential defender. She took in the slate tint of his skin and the flak vest that marked him as a high and mighty Chuunin. But what truly caught her eye was the red stitching across the left breast that marked him as one of the up-and-coming Seven Swordsmen. The other boys didn't notice, or maybe they didn't care.

"Oh look, your knight in shining armor. This is why girls're no good. Can't do anything without men."

"I'm just as tough as some _boy_!" Mei said.

"Hey wait, that's Kisame Hoshigaki," one of the boys said. "Let's just get outta here."

"What? Don't be such a pussy."

"Yeah, he's nothin' special. 'S against the rules to attack Academy kids anyway. He can't do nothin' to us."

Kisame took a step forward. "That rule only applies if you get caught," he said with a grin as he rested a hand on the hilt of his tanto.

Mei frowned. She may have been a girl, but she was no pushover. If there was one thing she'd learned from growing up with her father, it was that no one listened to the weak. Anger finally bubbling to the surface at being dismissed, she pushed past Kisame while finishing a round of hand seals. By the time the bullies noticed her advance, it was too late. Mei's cheeks swelled and spewed forth a jet of magma. What followed were screams and a sloppy retreat, and one boy was too slow to avoid the lava entirely. His wailing sounded like that of a dying animal as the liquid heat burned through his pant leg and the skin of his thigh to the bone underneath. The other two boys yanked him along, horrified.

"Freak!" one said over his friend's shrieking.

"You're so dead for this!"

Mei wanted to chase after them and just kill them for real, but a strong hand on her shoulder stopped her. Livid green eyes turned on her restrainer, and she found Kisame watching her carefully.

"That was a bold move, kid."

"I don't need your help."

"I can see that."

He released her shoulder and she righted herself.

"They're gonna whip you for that," he said, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Mei glared into the distance where the boys had run off. "I don't care."

Kisame chuckled. "I guess that's why they picked you. You're a weird girl."

"Well, you're a _monster_."

Kisame grinned, and for the first time Mei noticed that his teeth were unnaturally sharp. "_You're_ one to talk."

Mei was about to respond to that when Utakata's voice called her name from the distance. He was running toward her and waving, but it didn't look like a friendly greeting. Those boys must have already reported her little temper tantrum to the Academy overseers.

Kisame looked between Mei and the approaching Utakata, grey eyes calculating. "They call me a monster 'cause I'm easy to spot from a distance. But I'll tell you a secret, Mei Terumī."

Mei had not been expecting him to know her name, and it showed on her face. She wasn't even a Genin, and he was a Swordsman in training. Why would he ever notice a grimy little ant like her?

Kisame leaned in closer and wiped the excess lava, now cooled and congealed, from the corner of her mouth. He rubbed it between thumb and forefinger before continuing. "We're all monsters here. Some of us just hide it better behind pretty masks."

"Mei! Hey, Mei!" Utakata said, finally within hearing distance.

"I'm not a monster," Mei said.

Kisame studied her as though she'd said something amusing but not funny enough to merit a laugh. "You'll have to be if you wanna survive this place."

Utakata finally caught up to them and doubled over panting. He looked between Mei and Kisame, hiding his surprise at the sight of a Chuunin hanging around an Academy student. But there was no time to throw questions.

"They're looking for you, Mei," he said between breaths. "What the hell did you do this time?"

"She bit back," Kisame answered for her as he turned to leave.

Utakata watched him with no small degree of suspicion, but Mei ignored him.

"I don't care what they do to me," she said with startling conviction for an eight-year-old. "They deserved it."

"I bet. Let's just get outta here before they find you."

Mei nodded and let him take her hand as they scuttled past Kisame. She turned back to look at him over her shoulder and found him watching them, sharpened teeth bared through the rising fog.

They turned a corner and Kisame was gone.

* * *

"Insolent little bitch. Did you think you could _run_ from me? Did you?"

Mei kept her eyes trained on the dirt floor and tried not to shiver. She knew the price to pay for mutilation of a fellow Academy student outside the battle arena, but she did not want to appear weak or worse, remorseful. Utakata stood against the far wall. His hair appeared almost grey in the washed out fluorescent lighting as he awaited his own punishment for abetting her escape.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Shin'ichi asked, although it didn't seem like he cared to listen either way.

"They were making fun of me, so I made them stop," Mei said.

He shook his head, oily hair swishing limply. "This is why I'm against female recruits, always whining when you _feelings _get hurt. You're lucky you're the best of your clan, or I'd sooner sell you to the whore houses. They wouldn't pay much for an ugly little runt like you, though."

Mei said nothing even as the anger boiled within her and chakra burned beneath her skin. The last time she'd talked back to Shin'ichi, she'd earned herself a beating that had left her bedridden for a week. Her father had screamed at her the whole time, leaving her with little time for sleep or peace. But he never did more than give her a good smack across the face. He'd never dare, unless he had a death wish.

"Get over here, girl. I'm going to give you a beating you'll never forget," Shin'ichi said, making a grab for her.

"What's all this?" a voice said from the entrance to the chamber.

Mei froze, recognizing that voice instantly. True fear gripped her at the knowledge that she'd now done the one thing her father told her never to do.

"Ah, Lord Yagura, please don't bother yourself with this. I'm just punishing a student for bad behavior. Standard procedure."

Footsteps, light like a girl's, approached from the right. Mei dared not avert her gaze from the hole it was burning into the ground.

_Please go away, please go away, please go away..._

"Let's see that cute face."

A hand on Mei's chin nearly made her scream, but she bit her tongue so hard it bled. Yagura tilted her face upwards to catch the light. If she'd looked him in the eye (she didn't), she would have seen the unfeeling hardness in the Fourth Mizukage's lavender eyes as he scrutinized her face, still slightly plump with timeless baby fat despite his age.

"Terumī," he said after a moment. "What's your given name?"

Mei swallowed the blood in her throat and kept her eyes focused on his upper lip. "Mei, sir."

"Ah, that's right. Anzu Terumī was your mother. I can see her in you under the filth. How sad for you to lose her without ever knowing her."

It was a cruel game he played, this young prince, just to watch the anguish in others. He liked to say cruelty brought out the truth in people. But Mei was too terrified even to respond, much less understand. If he wanted, he could kill her now and never think twice about it.

Yagura smiled, and Mei wished she could disappear. "And what is Utakata doing here?"

Shin'ichi cleared his throat. "He tried to hide her, but my people found them at the shore. He'll get his punishment when I'm done with the girl."

"He most certainly will not," Yagura said. "Utakata is not to be harmed. I thought I made that clear."

Shin'ichi sputtered and wrung his hands nervously. "Oh, ah, yes sir, of course. It must've slipped my mind."

"I don't doubt it. You're incompetent and weak. I'd hardly expect anything more."

Shin'ichi smartly remained silent, but Mei could almost feel the dirty look he was aiming at the ground. Yagura finally released her, and she nearly fell over as the feeling returned to her body. Resisting the urge to rub her face, Mei stole a glance at the Fourth Mizukage. He was a short young man with soft, lavender eyes, boyish in his looks but as hard and cold as a winter storm.

"Do you know why you're alive, Mei Terumī?"

Mei shivered at being addressed directly. Still, she dared not look him in the eye.

"It's because you have talent, and I think that's what this village needs. I have high hopes for you, just as I had for your mother before you came along. Do you understand me?"

Mei nodded.

"The Mizukage asked you a question, girl," Shin'ichi said.

"Yes, sir," Mei said.

"I saw the damage you did to that boy," Yagura continued. "Normally I'd have you whipped bloody for something like that, but in your case I'll refrain."

Mei's eyes snapped up in shock. He wasn't going to punish her?

Yagura smiled at her expression. "I'm not an unreasonable man. I want the best shinobi with me, so why risk scarring you?"

Mei swallowed, green eyes flickering toward Utakata.

"_However_, I also want my shinobi to be loyal. And I've learned over the years that loyalty, like obedience, has to be carved into the soul to ensure its indelibility."

Two shinobi that had accompanied the Mizukage suddenly emerged from the shadows and grabbed Mei's arms, pinning her with meaty hands. Panicking, Mei knew she shouldn't struggle but could not help herself.

"Hey, what're you gonna do to her?" Utakata said from his place at the wall, alert and ready to intervene. "You said you wouldn't punish her."

"For demonstrating her skills? No. But I'm going to teach her a lesson about acting freely. My shinobi only kill when _I_ order it."

Yagura cracked his knuckles and watched as Mei's eyes followed his every movement. "Mei, did you know that under ideal conditions, some corals can theoretically live forever? With enough sunlight, they can thrive unrestricted."

Mei watched his left hand as it began to glow with eerie, green chakra. That wasn't the color normal chakra was supposed to be. Was it Yagura or his demon? Was there even a difference?

"It's actually quite fascinating, you know. Your chakra is superheated because of your bloodline limits, so in effect you're like a living, breathing sun. Coral would take to you beautifully."

"Please," she said as he approached. "Please, I-I won't do it again."

Yagura smiled, but it wasn't friendly. "I know you won't."

He grabbed her thigh with his glowing hand and she screamed. The agony was unbearable, like nothing she'd ever felt before, and it was growing from within her. Vaguely, she heard the sound of flesh ripping and felt something warm splash her leg.

"No, stop it! Stop it!" Utakata said somewhere in the distance.

Just as Mei was about to relinquish her grasp of consciousness, Yagura leaned into her ear and said, "You're mine. Don't ever forget it."

She passed out to the sound of his voice ringing all around her.

* * *

"Mei! Hey, Mei..."

Mei frowned in her sleep, wishing she could escape that sound. Phantom fingers shook her with intention to rouse, but she didn't want to give into them. If she opened her eyes, _he _would be there.

"Wake up already, c'mon."

Green eyes cracked open and took in a blurry vision of black and blue. She could not speak for a few moments. When she blinked, the memories of Yagura and his haunting half-threats faded and she was staring up at the one face she wanted to see.

"Finally," Utakata said. "I thought you'd be out of it forever."

Now that she was awake, Mei noticed she was back in her room in bed with the shutters drawn and only an oil lamp to light the cramped space. She tried to sit up only to find that she had a massive headache, and fell back against the pillow. Groaning, she raised a limp hand to her forehead, wondering when she'd smacked her head. "What happened?"

Utakata was silent for a moment. "You don't remember?"

Visions of a dark room, dank and dirty, and cruel lavender eyes returned to her. Alarmed and uncaring of her migraine, Mei fumbled for the spot on her thigh where Yagura's insidious coral had taken hold and forced its growth through her bones. There was nothing.

"What... Where'd it go?"

"Where'd what go?"

"The coral. It was here, growing. E-Everywhere, through my skin...everywhere. It hurt so bad." Green met gold, and Utakata suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"He used a genjutsu on you."

"Genjutsu?"

"Yeah, when he walked in. Grabbed your face and then you kinda lost it for a while. They had to drag you out."

Mei's heart was racing as she processed this new information. It was all an illusion? She tested her leg again, and sure enough it seemed as normal as ever.

"I really thought he was gonna kill you for a minute."

Unbidden, tears prickled her eyes. "Me too."

Utakata nudged her legs and sat down on the bed opposite her. In the dim lighting, his eyes shone like cut amber and shadows slashed his face like wraith's. He looked sinister like this, closer to the demon the villagers feared he was, but Mei had never felt safer than when she was with him. Lying back, she tried to will away the pounding in her head.

After a moment, Utakata got up. "I better go before your dad finds me."

He shouldn't have been here at all, she reasoned, but solitude was the last thing she needed right now. "Wait."

A small hand tugged weakly at his salt-stained shirt, and he rolled his eyes. "You're bein' silly. Just sleep. I'll see ya tomorrow."

"Just for a little," she pleaded, suddenly feeling terribly embarrassed but unable to help it.

Utakata peered at the only girl bold enough to call herself his friend. The little boy in him wanted to push her away, the demon to devour her whole. But in his heart, he knew he would never deny her anything. She'd given him more than anyone ever had, and there was nothing in the world he would deny her.

"Okay," he said, pulling out his bone flute. "One song till you fall asleep, then I'm outta here."

Mei nodded and sank into her pillow, moving only to push her tangled bangs out of her eyes for comfort. Utakata took a breath and began to play softly, the notes like warm whispers meant to soothe and lull.

She was asleep in a matter of seconds.


	2. Pawn

**Chimera, Chapter 2: Pawn**  
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.  
Notes: I've changed up some characters' ages for the Chuunin exams because a) it's more interesting to include a bunch of well-known characters who could have realistically crossed paths at major international events, and b) age of promotion really doesn't matter at all as far as the plot goes. So please don't worry too much about it, and enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Eleven was on the older side for Chuunin promotion, but the rules of engagement (three-man teams) put restraints on Yagura's ambitions no matter how good his candidates were. This year, only one team had survived the mortality rates of Academy Graduation in time for the Exams, held in Cloud. Mei had the great honor—or misfortune—of being on that team.

"Get through the preliminary group exercises. I don't care how. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you three that _failure_ in the singles round is not an option."

Yagura glared down at Mei and her teammates over his nose. Unlike his fellow Kage in attendance, he declined to don his Mizukage robes. A shrewd man by nature, the deep impression cast by appearances was not lost on him: Kage regalia exuded an aura of leadership, but shinobi garb reminded onlookers of the reason he was a Kage in the first place and a Jinchuuriki in the second. While the Kage of other villages mingled politely in their shared private box, Yagura kept to himself and his ANBU guard.

"Yes, sir," Mei and her teammates said in unison.

He watched them like a group of stray cats he'd dragged in to deal with a pest problem, and if they failed he'd just send them to the slaughter and replace them with new ones. "Just get it done."

Yagura left them to await the group exam, which would place them in the wilds of Lightning Country for the better part of three days hunting elusive paper trophies and trying to remember _not_ to kill the competition. Mei watched Yagura walk away and leave her team with the others preparing to embark on a wild goose chase.

"Finally, I thought he'd _never_ leave."

_Ameyuri Ringo._

Ameyuri's bright red hair hung in bushy pigtails over her shoulders and framed angular cheekbones, gaunt and like cut marble, like a starved lion that had just caught the scent of meat. She was armed to the teeth with all manner of curved kunai, daggers, and chokutō. A swordsman by training, Ameyuri nonetheless excelled at lightning-based chakra manipulation, a rarity for Mist shinobi. She was on track to becoming a member of the Legendary Seven Swordsmen, the most prestigious shinobi ranking in the Bloody Mist.

"Shut up, Ameyuri. He's got ears everywhere, and you know how he feels about insolence," said the lone boy in their three-man team.

_Mangetsu Hozuki_.

Mangetsu faced off against his future Swordsmen colleague. His unblemished pale complexion and deep indigo eyes failed to soften his otherwise ruthlessly calculating nature. Mangetsu was something of a prodigy in their age group, gifted with the sword and ninjutsu alike. He was a tactician by nature, a strategist concerned only with the win and the most efficient way to get there. She had never seen him smile, and she wondered if he knew how.

"Screw him," Ameyuri spat. "He doesn't care about us, and I sure as shit don't care about _him_."

Mangetsu rolled his eyes and decided not to egg her on. It wasn't worth it. Mei resisted the urge to tug at her short hair, a nervous habit.

"Anyway," she said. "We have a job to do."

Ameyuri glared at her, dark eyes thin as slits. "You know, I still can't figure out why _you're _here. Everyone knows Yagura's training up the new generation of Swordsmen, and you couldn't even chop an onion. So, what gives?"

Mei bit the inside of her cheek. Ameyuri was the only other girl who'd survived the Academy Graduation slaughter, aside from Mei, but it was not surprising that the two of them had never been friends. With so few girls enrolling in, let alone graduating from, the Academy, they had to be better, smarter, and meaner than the boys, or they'd be the first to get picked off. Never wanting to be the target of group violence, the girls usually turned on one another, hoping it would be some other girl who'd be the weak link instead of them. In many ways, the girls were worse than the boys. Ameyuri was notoriously cruel and cared little for anyone but herself. Mei, however, could be just as cruel.

"It's true that I can't fight with a sword like you and Mangetsu," Mei said, forcing a smile. "But I got something just a good." She dropped the façade and glared at Ameyuri. "And Yagura made _me_ the leader, not you."

Acid steam leaked from the corners of Mei's mouth, misting in the air but lingering just out of reach of Ameyuri and Mangetsu. Ameyuri stepped back, hissing when some of the mist singed her nose.

"Ow, what the hell!"

Mei glared and balled her small fists. Her poison draped her like a cape. "_Don't_ you forget it."

Mangetsu said nothing as he peered at the poisonous mist surrounding Mei. He reached out a hand toward it, and his fingers liquefied when they came too close. Mei and Ameyuri stared, their previous animosity forgotten.

"That's interesting," Mangetsu said as the mist joined with his water and made a hissing sound.

"Be careful," Mei warned, but she immediately bit her tongue and regretted the warning. What did she care if he hurt himself? He should know better if he'd managed to stay alive this long.

Mangetsu pulled away and his hand solidified once more. He appeared to be unharmed. "That's _very_ interesting..."

"All Chuunin candidates report for the group examination," a voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

Mei, Ameyuri, and Mangetsu followed the loudspeaker to a post at the mouth of a vast rock jungle, where the other Genin teams from various villages were gathered. A Jōnin proctor dressed in Cloud's traditional black and white uniform stared at the teams gathered, bored. He yawned and gestured vaguely, as though counting.

"Uh, okay, guess you're all here. So let's just get this over with," he began. "Basically, find the treasure scroll and bring it to the finish line, which is gonna be that tower over yonder." He pointed to a tall rock spire miles in the distance. "You got three days."

A young boy with mussed, black hair and goggles raised his hand and waved it around. The proctor ignored him.

"So, uh, any questions?" the proctor asked.

The dark-haired boy continued to wave his hand around and began to jump like he had to pee _real _bad. Mei frowned. His hitai-ate marked him as a Konoha shinobi.

"No one?"

The Konoha boy made a whimpering sound, but still the proctor remained willfully oblivious.

"How many treasure scrolls are there?"

A stocky boy wearing a headscarf that barely concealed the most eye-catching facial tattoos stood with his arms crossed. He hadn't bothered to raise his hand but clearly expected a response.

The proctor smiled. "Ah, good question. There's only ten treasure scrolls, but sixteen teams. So, well, if you don't find one and bring it to the finish, you're out."

The Genin mumbled among themselves. The Konoha Genin who'd just about had a heart attack raising his hand grumbled something about how _he _was going to ask that. Mei narrowed her eyes as she thought about the implications of this information.

"We have to find one of those damn scrolls," Ameyuri whispered. "Yagura'll skin us if we get disqualified."

Mangetsu said nothing as he continued to stare ahead, his gaze far away. Mei nodded but remained silent, too.

"Oh, and one more thing," the proctor said. "Um, this isn't about killing each other, so try to keep that to a minimum, okie dokie? The real exam starts in the final one-on-ones. And you need your whole team alive to qualify."

There was more grumbling to be heard from the gathered Genin, but Mei tuned it out. Her team had to find a scroll and get to the finish line as soon as possible without risking any confrontations with other teams. But that meant reining in both Ameyuri and Mangetsu, a feat which would no doubt prove challenging.

"Okay, so, I guess go? Remember, three days," the proctor said, waving them off.

The Genin teams took off, some at a sprint, others at a more sedate pace. But within the span of three minutes, there was not a soul in sight. Mei and her team absconded into the jagged rock forest away from the other teams.

"What the hell're we doing? We should be taking the others out!" Ameyuri said as they broke under the shadow of a hanging rock precipice.

Mangetsu looked around, silent. She rolled her eyes at his nonchalance.

"Seriously? Are you even in there?" Ameyuri poked him in the bicep, but he merely liquefied and her hand sank through to the wrist. "Ew! Aw, gimme a break! That's so gross!"

Mangetsu didn't spare Ameyuri a glance as he continued to scope the area. Mei watched the exchange in silence, thinking.

"We're better off finding a scroll and getting to the finish without running into trouble," she said. "But that means we can't draw attention. Think you can do that, Ameyuri?"

Ameyuri whirled and advanced on Mei. "Listen, Princess. So ya got a few neat tricks up your skirt, cool, whatever. But you're not better than me, got it? Your magic burps got _nothin' _on my knives."

"I'm no more a princess than you are. So again, can you hold it together long enough not to get us in trouble with the other teams?"

Ameyuri flushed with anger.

"Don't be so loud," Mangetsu said as he stared in the opposite direction, very still. "This is one fight I don't want to waste time with."

"What's happening?" Mei asked, completely forgetting about Ameyuri.

Rock spires, thicker around than a house, rose like trees in the densest of forests where Mangetsu was staring. Some were dappled with natural caves and crevices. A golden eagle squawked and took to the air hundreds of feet overhead, its sharp eyes turned toward the earth in search of prey.

"One of the Konoha teams is fighting the Suna team. Listen."

Mei strained her hearing, but she heard nothing but the wind.

"Are you kidding me? This is _such _bullshit!" Ameyuri hissed. "That should be us in there. We gotta get rid of the competition."

Mei gritted her teeth and snatched one of Ameyuri's red pigtails. With her other hand, she held a curved kunai to Ameyuri's throat and punctured the skin.

"No, we don't," she said softly, ignoring the chakra in her veins that began to boil and writhe like a living thing inside her, wanting out. "We don't. Say it."

Ameyuri bared her teeth and reached for her own kunai, but Mei twisted her weapon deeper into Ameyuri's neck, stilling her movements. Ameyuri merely grinned wider.

"Bitch," she spat.

"Back at you."

Mangetsu ignored them. Ameyuri's blood flowed in a steady stream from her neck wound, but she gave no indication of discomfort. Mei hid her inner bewilderment. No eleven-year-old, Bloody Mist or not, should have been so calm around her own blood and pain. Perhaps if she hadn't been the arrogant type, Mei would have admitted a grudging respect for Ameyuri. The Academy had made the girl strong, stronger probably than any other kunoichi in this fool's errand. But Mei had no capacity for respectful animosity. There was only empathy, a hollow, melancholic pull that manifested itself in a phantom pain at Mei's own neck, and she felt her own blood trickle just as hot and just as sticky as Ameyuri's. And she didn't flinch, either.

"Fine," Ameyuri said. "Don't draw attention. Got it."

Mei didn't back off right away and instead took a moment to inspect her teammate, the girl whom she was supposed to trust to have her back in this bloody circus show. The first impression that drifted through her consciousness was that Ameyuri was not Utakata. As a Jinchuuriki, Utakata was confined to Mist and therefore banned from the Chuunin Exams. Not that he needed some exam to prove he was worthy of promotion. But Mei had never been away from Utakata since they'd become friends, and as a result she hadn't slept much on the journey here. Ameyuri was angular where Utakata was soft and gentle, dark and shrewd where Utakata was warm and accepting. Everything about her was wrong, mismatched, off. Mei would not have trusted Ameyuri with so much as the first watch.

"Good," Mei said, pulling back and sheathing her kunai.

"Goddamn, I just washed this," Ameyuri grumbled as she scraped at the blood seeping into the collar of her shinobi gi.

"Oh," Mangetsu said. "It looks like one of the Konoha teams got killed off."

"Already?" Mei asked, forgetting about Ameyuri and returning her attention to Mangetsu. "What happened?"

"Dunno. But there were three, and now there's two. We should keep moving."

"Whatever. Let's just find the damn scroll so we can get on with the real fight," Ameyuri said, avoiding eye contact with her teammates.

The three of them disappeared into the earthen jungle, silent as the fog that descended with the encroaching night.

* * *

Man-made madness. What else could this be? To send eleven-year-old children (and yes, they were still children no matter what Minato said about how far they'd come, no matter what the Hokage approved on paper, no matter how good _he _was)—_children—_to this wasteland alone to face victory or the ultimate defeat was a heavy responsibility, a careless one. At least, it would have been if not for _him_.

"The sooner we get one of the scrolls, the better. There's a limited number," Kakashi Hatake said just ahead. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he walked, and despite the form-fitting mask he wore, it wasn't enough to tame the shock of silver hair he'd inherited from his late father.

"Yeah, and _I'll_ be the one to find it. Don't you forget it, Kakashi."

Obito Uchiha bared his teeth in a grin as he watched his teammate's back while they walked through the rocky maze. His hands were folded behind his head, where his fingers threaded through dark tangled hair that was getting too long too fast. There was never any need to wonder at what he was thinking because he was more than happy to announce it either with his words or with his flamboyant actions. He swiped a kunai from its holder at his hip and twirled it in anticipation of some phantom threat lurking around the corner, or perhaps the perceived one walking along in front of him.

Rin Nohara bit back a smile as she tucked her short brown bangs behind an ear to see him better. "As long as one of us finds it, that's what matters. We're a team, aren't we?"

Obito dropped the curling grin and beamed at her. "Yeah, you bet! And we'll definitely get one and get out of this stink hole. I mean, if our _fearless leader_ agrees."

Kakashi ignored his teammates' banter, and Rin spared Obito a bright smile. "Of course he does. Minato-sensei's counting on us."

At the mention of their teacher, Obito's look turned somber and he leaned in close to Rin. He whispered, "Y'know, I bet this is some kinda ploy to seal the deal for his Hokage appointment. Once we're Chuunin, we won't need him and he can, you know, take over the world."

"Minato-sensei would become Hokage whether or not you pass the exam, Obito," Kakashi said. "There's no need for you to lose sleep over it."

Any good humor Obito had derived from the excuse to cozy up to Rin vanished, and he brandished his kunai at Kakashi. "I'm not losin' anything over it! What's that supposed to mean? You think I won't pass or somethin'?"

Kakashi said nothing and continued to scan ahead. Rin sighed and put a hand over Obito's kunai, lowering it.

"That's not what Kakashi meant. Minato-sensei's just obviously gonna be Hokage either way, that's all. We should pass this exam so we won't have to burden him. What do you say?"

Obito flushed at the contact of her bare skin on his, and his reaction made Rin blush in turn.

"Um, yeah, of course. I mean, like I said, I'll find the scroll. We're practically guaranteed to pass!"

Rin couldn't fight the smile that bloomed across her face. "Definitely," she echoed his enthusiasm.

She was too distracted to notice the furtive glance Kakashi cast back at them, dark eyes unreadable. Unlike Obito, his thoughts were anyone's guess, and anyone was usually wrong.

"Let's just keep moving," he said. "The other teams are strong. I don't want to make any enemies unless it's really necessary."

* * *

Mei stared intently at a pattern of cracks in the rock face that was her lonesome view as she lay on her back trying to convince herself that it was okay to sleep. It was the first night of the exam, and she'd already heard a boy's blood-curdling death rattle in the distance, witnessed a strange black smokestack that did not smell like any campfire should have smelled, and followed in the destructive footsteps of one of the other team's decimation of about a square mile of rock forest for no apparent reason. The macabre atmosphere didn't addle her; rather, Mangetsu's staring did. After seven minutes and twenty-two seconds of it, she'd had enough.

"What do you want?" she bit out.

"Do that acid mist thing again," he said readily, as though he'd been counting the seconds just as she had been.

Mei's short hair tickled the back of her neck, like it was curling in on itself at his request. She resisted the urge to bite her lip, barely. "What for?"

Ameyuri was a short distance away keeping watch, as she'd been doing for the last half hour. Mei wasn't getting any sleep in soon.

Mangetsu's violet eyes appeared black in the pale moonlight. Despite the chill in the air, he didn't shiver in his sleeveless shirt. "I wanna try something."

Mei shot him a poisonous look over her shoulder. "This isn't a game, you know."

"Sure it is."

"What're you talking about?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. It's always been like that, don't you think? I kind of like it like that. If it's a game, there's gotta be a winner."

"...If you say so."

"So come on, do it again."

He was standing and had a height advantage, one which Mei was determined to rectify now. They were young, and while Mei was no paragon of physical presence, she was of a height with Mangetsu and held her head high.

"Not that I care, but it's dangerous. If we're gonna win this, hurting you would be a stupid idea."

"Stop being such a wuss and just do it already."

Mei was taken aback at his jab, and it showed. Not one to be called a coward, she ignored her lingering reservations. "_Fine_. But don't say I didn't warn you."

A simple deep breath was all it took to summon the familiar burning chakra to her throat. When she opened her mouth, a thick roiling mist snaked out of it and tested the air with delicate tendrils, snatching it up as it moved. As before, she controlled its range so it wouldn't touch Mangetsu. But also as before, he reached out to grasp it. His hand liquefied on contact as before, hissing as some of his water turned to steam under the poison mist's corrosive influence. Mei watched him, curious as to why he would want to subject himself to unnecessary suffering, when all of a sudden his submerged hand manifested its solid shape.

Mangetsu bared his teeth a little, the only sign of what Mei knew full well was agony. "Huh, thought so."

Before she had a chance to question him, he removed his hand from the mist and hid it behind his back.

"What's so?" she demanded.

Mangetsu eyed the mist that still curled around the crisp, night air all around Mei, who stood oblivious to it at its center. "If I can control it, you can, too."

His vague responses were grating on her nerves. "Control what?"

"The mist's acidity. You can manipulate it. Or at least, you should."

They called Mangetsu a prodigy of sorts, though from the time she'd spent with him up until this point, she had a bit of trouble getting _why_, exactly. He did nothing to distinguish himself or draw attention to himself in their Academy days. He barely said anything unless it was necessary or prompted. And he gave nothing away freely. He wouldn't even show her his abused hand, and for an absurd moment Mei had the thought that it was perfectly unscathed, that her technique hadn't worked on him. Preposterous. As though reading her mind, he showed her his hand, and she could only gape at its pristine condition. No welts, no oozing sores, no boiled skin and tissue.

"How...?"

He waggled his fingers at her, but instead of answering her question, he answered his own. "All you have to do is alter the pH level to make it more basic. That's what I did when I hydrated. Do that, and it's not poisonous anymore."

"Why would I wanna do that?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. Never mind how and why _he'd _been able to do it.

Mangetsu shrugged. "We're a team. No one said the game was every man for himself."

He retreated to get a little sleep while Ameyuri was still on watch without another word. Mei watched him go, hackles raised and poised to strike, but there was no reason. Her mist coiled around her like fingers, itching to stretch out but reluctant to wander beyond its master's reign. She brought her hand up through it, watching it disperse between her fingers. Harmless.

* * *

On the morning of the third day, Ameyuri was about ready to slit the throat of the next living creature she came across. She'd begun muttering to herself as her soles crunched over the gravel underfoot. Mei tried to ignore the noise, but there was little she could do to appease Ameyuri. After all, they were just about out of time and the frustration was justified. Mangetsu lagged behind with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the sky, seemingly bored. Mei couldn't decide which was more agitating: Ameyuri's anxiety or Mangetsu's nonchalance.

"Aaaahhhh, this is _bullshit_. I say we track down some other team and just take their scroll," Ameyuri said.

Mei stopped and turned around. "What other team? All I see are rocks."

Ameyuri rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a smartass. You know what I meant."

"It's not that easy, Ameyuri. Besides, the teams that found scrolls probably already went to the finish line. If we run into anyone, they'll be empty-handed just like us."

"You dunno that. Where's this magical finish line you keep going on about, anyway? This place is a freaking maze!"

Mangetsu strolled by them and stopped in front of a fat cracked rock spire that blocked his path just ahead. He put a hand on it and peered around it into the distance but said nothing.

"I don't want to fight with you," Mei said, trying to stay calm.

"Really? 'Cause I'm pretty ready to fight _someone_. And even you're lookin' good enough right now," Ameyuri said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ameyuri smirked and crossed her arms. "Just that you're no challenge. But I guess I can't be picky out here."

Mei took a step forward. Rising to the bait was a foolish move, but no one called her weak and got away with it. "Say that again. I dare you."

"Ooohhh, what, you gonna hit me? With what? You don't even carry a sword! What kinda kunoichi are you, anyway?"

Mei had had enough. She brought her hands up in a seal and took a deep, lingering breath, ready to unleash the fires of hell upon Ameyuri and her big mouth, when Mangetsu spoke up.

"Someone's coming," he said.

He backed up and walked right in between Mei and Ameyuri, careless of Mei's pent up chakra and the twin blades Ameyuri had drawn halfway from their sheaths. It took Mei a second to register his words, but when she did she swallowed the heat in her throat. Voices drifted around the stalagmites toward her. She locked eyes with Ameyuri, who'd arrived at a similar conclusion, and dashed to follow Mangetsu. They took shelter behind a thick boulder and masked their chakra. The teams that had gathered for this exam were nothing to sneeze at, and running into one was low on Mei's wish list. From her hiding place, she raised a finger to her lips, signaling to Mangetsu and Ameyuri to stay put and shut up.

"Man, this place is seriously one big maze," a boy's voice said. "I mean, we've been in here _forever_ and we _still_ can't find a way out."

He came into Mei's line of sight followed by two teammates. Cloud ninja, from their hitai-ate. The speaker was a young boy with dark skin and unruly bleached hair. He sucked on something long and thin, a toothpick or twig, perhaps.

"Three days is hardly 'forever', Omoi," said the lone female of the group.

Mei's eyes lingered on her. She was blonde and blue-eyed, and most eye-catching of all was her pale skin—pristine, not a speck of dirt upon it, no scars to speak of. Mei glanced at her bare hands, which hid old grime under uneven fingernails and in between the natural grooves in her flesh. A cut on her palm had begun to scab over, brown and crusty.

Omoi sighed dramatically. "It feels like forever. I just wanna go home, I guess."

The third member of the Kumo team sauntered behind his teammates with his hands in his pockets, which he only removed to stifle a yawn. "Samui's right. You're exaggerating again. Anyway, we live here. Shouldn't you know how to get out of here?"

"Yeah, but not _here_ here. 'Sides, you're the team captain, Darui. Isn't it on you to get us outta here?"

Darui's limp bleached hair hung in his eyes. He yawned again, and Mei wondered if he'd been up all night, too.

"Me? That's pretty dull. I already got us a scroll, so my part's done," Darui said.

"Your part's _not_ done," Samui said. "We're a team. We work together."

Darui put up his hands. "Yeah, yeah."

"Still, I'm kinda glad you guys're here, too," Omoi said, grinning. "This place gives me the creeps."

"We _live here_." Samui poked him in the chest.

"Yeah, but not _here_ here. Didn't I just say that?"

Mei watched the exchange in tense silence, and at the revelation that this team carried a scroll, she could almost hear Ameyuri begin to salivate. This was their chance, and they were running out of time. There was no telling whether they'd have another opportunity to find a scroll, or if there were even any left lying around. Still, the idea of fighting these Kumo shinobi did not sit well with her after Yagura's warning about passing the exams. She hesitated, and it was her undoing.

Ameyuri stepped out from hiding and confronted the Cloud shinobi. "So, you guys got a scroll, huh?"

Samui and Omoi jerked to attention and crouched into defensive positions. Darui eyed Ameyuri with a puzzled look, but he didn't seem alarmed at her sudden appearance.

"Uh, where'd you come from?" he asked.

"From behind that rock," she said triumphantly.

Omoi peered at said rock, as though to confirm that yes, there was definitely a rock there.

_Damnit_, Mei thought. _You ruined our element of surprise!_

Mangetsu peeked out from behind the rock he and Ameyuri had been hiding behind but said nothing. There was no use remaining concealed anymore. Mei stepped out, too, and joined her teammates.

"We'll be taking that scroll from you," Mei declared. "Hand it over."

Darui gaped at her. "What? Oh, I'm really sorry, but I can't just give it to you."

"These people are weird," Mangetsu whispered.

Ameyuri just stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"And I'm sorry you had to walk by here," Mei said. "But we're still taking it."

"Stealing another team's scroll instead of finding your own?" Samui said. "Not cool."

"Hey, you guys're from Mist, right?" Omoi asked. "Is it true that they call it the Bloody Mist 'cause the mist is actually the blood of dead kids? I heard that's why there aren't that many of you guys around."

In spite of herself, Mei clenched her fists and suffered a spike of anger over the way he spoke of her home. She caught herself, ashamed and flustered over the heated reaction. He wasn't far off the mark, if not a little too gullible. She had no love for the place, or so she'd convinced herself. It was the only place she had, though.

"The kids who survive come out strong," she said.

Ameyuri snorted, and Mei nearly lost her cool over the urge to smack the girl.

"Mist nin, huh," Darui said, his eyes roving over their group slowly. "You guys fight with water."

Omoi grinned. "Yeah, they do."

"Darui," Samui said, a warning in her tone.

"Fine, you can have our scroll," Darui went on. He reached into his pocket and produced a small beige scroll with a simple lightning bolt stamped on the seal in red wax. "If your team can beat mine, that is."

Mei bristled at his loaded words and the way he watched her as he offered them. She pegged him at a few years older than her, which meant he was bigger and probably stronger. And with that one little look, she felt naked, like he knew how this would end just after three minutes of conversation.

But he _didn't_ know.

"Deal," she said, raising a hand toward Mangetsu and Ameyuri. "If my team can beat yours."

Mangetsu held her gaze, understanding, but Ameyuri was too preoccupied with the impending fight to care. She licked her lips and rubbed the hilts of the daggers at her hips.

Darui grinned. "Samui."

Mei didn't even have time to be confused when a rush of wind slammed into her at lightning speed. She opened her mouth in a gasp, and even that was too slow. The girl called Samui stood just feet away from her holding a wicked chokutō aimed for Mei's neck. The only thing stopping it was Mangetsu's equally sharp blade. He now stood directly in front of her, so close she could smell him, and how he'd moved so fast when he barely found the energy even to blink was beyond her. Mei caught her breath, and Samui was already leaping backward, icy eyes narrowed and looking for a new opening.

"If it's swordplay you want," Ameyuri said, lunging at Omoi, "then you came to the right place!"

"Whoa!"

Omoi scrambled backward and drew his own sword, a long curved katana, to parry Ameyuri's assault. She bared her teeth in a feral grin, pleased at his quick reflexes with a blade. Meanwhile, Mei recovered from the sneak attack that should have killed her if not for Mangetsu's timely intervention. He circled, stalking Samui and watching her every move as she sought another opening. Darui unsheathed his own sword, a broad, silver blade, which unfolded and snapped into place with a loud _chink_. Mei eyed it warily.

"Well, I guess we better get this over with," he drawled.

Mei gritted her teeth and jumped backward, anticipating a swift attack. Not a moment later, the ground beneath her feet exploded. Thinking quickly, she executed a hand seal and spit out a thick stream of lava. It hit the rocky earth with a terrible _hiss_. She landed against a tall rock spire not far away, holding fast with chakra. Darui had had a similar idea and now perched atop a rock pillar, though not without having suffered at the hands of her technique. The skin on his upper left arm was smoking and peeling away where lava had splashed him. He panted.

"Thought you Misties were water users," he called.

Mei eyed his sword. If he got in range of his sword, she was sure he would outmatch her easily. Curved kunai could only do her so much good, and Ameyuri was right, the sword was her weakness. Lava could keep him at bay, but relying on it too much would raze the battlefield and those who fought upon it. Already, she caught Mangetsu veering to avoid the molten river Mei had created. This wasn't going to work as long as he and Ameyuri were down there. Unfortunately, Darui also picked up on this.

"Guess you'll have to think of something else. Neat trick, though. I got some, too."

Mei raised her hands to perform more seals. "You want water? I'll give you plenty!"

Below, the rubble marking where Darui's sword had hit the earth began to quake. Thin streams of water from the underground table shot into the air and converged into thicker ribbons. Mei directed them at Darui like lashes, hard and fast. They collided with the pillar he'd been standing on, cracking it but not toppling it. The victory was short-lived, however, when something crackled in the air. The smell of ozone was Mei's only warning before lightning, yellow and bright, snaked along the water ribbons she'd sent after Darui and he wrested control of them from her. She hissed and released the technique while flinging herself toward another giant stalagmite. The electrified water hit the spot she'd been clinging to with a deafening _crack_.

But she wasn't out of danger yet, and Darui didn't give her a moment's respite. Mei lunged to the nearest stone pillar in an attempt to put some distance between Darui and herself, but she was too slow. Charged water lashes hit her back and seared through her clothing, eating at the skin underneath and raising pus-filled welts where the electricity burned her flesh. She cried out and stumbled.

Back on the ground, she panted and blinked rapidly in an effort to see through the pain. There was no blood that she could detect, but she could hear the sound of the sores swelling with pus and smell her skin roasting. She bit her lip and dashed behind a nearby boulder. Darui withdrew his attack but didn't dispel it, and the electrified lashes followed him down to the ground as he searched for her.

"Hiding's so lame. Just come out so I don't have waste time looking. Please?" he said.

Nearby, Ameyuri and Omoi were still clashing with swords while Mangetsu had his hands full liquefying and solidifying with each hyperfast slash Samui dealt. They were never going to win like this, and now it was obvious. These Cloud shinobi were strong. Attacking head-on wasn't going to work.

_If only Ameyuri hadn't ruined our element of surprise!_

But what was done was done. There was no use agonizing over it. Mei had to think of something that would take out all three of their enemies and keep them at arm's length. In short, only a miracle could save them now.

Just then, Omoi split from Ameyuri and rolled next to Samui, who barely spared him a glance as she thrust her sword forward to clash with Mangetsu's. Omoi grabbed her hand over the hilt and, just as the clash of steel sang in the air, he generated lightning sparks that jumped from the joined blades to Mangetsu's arm.

Mei gasped in horror as Mangetsu flew backward, past her hiding spot, and collided with a flat rock face. He liquefied on impact and dispersed, the water that made him up sparking and steaming. Mei ran after him, thinking the worst. Lightning was devastating against water, and Mangetsu was essentially made of the stuff. She crouched down and searched for signs of life in the puddles he'd left behind, and slowly they began to bubble and converge. Too slowly. His head materialized, followed by his shoulders and arms. From the waist down, he remained liquefied. Mei put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked.

He put a hand on his head but didn't meet her gaze. "I've been better."

She turned back over her shoulder just in time to see Ameyuri narrowly avoid Samui's sword to the gut and stumble to safety. She staggered backward a short distance from her teammates, and Mei noticed she was bleeding from her left flank, which she favored. The Cloud shinobi converged as a team, swords raised as Darui dragged along the sparking water ribbons Mei had inadvertently given him. The sight of them made her bristle with fury hotter than the electrical burns on her back.

She stood up and walked toward Ameyuri. "Mangetsu, get up." She didn't wait for him.

Ameyuri wiped blood from the side of her mouth and side-eyed her team leader. "See you got your ass handed to you," she said, noting the lacerations on Mei's back.

"I see you did, too," Mei bit out.

Mangetsu joined them on somewhat shaky legs, still dripping and sweating profusely from the effort. But he stood tall and drew the tantō at his hip.

"Any ideas?" he asked.

"If you're plotting, hurry it up. The deadline's midnight tonight," Samui said as she brandished her sword.

"Whoa, hey, Samui, don't taunt them, okay? I'd like to get outta here with all my limbs still attached," Omoi said, smiling sheepishly.

Darui watched the Mist trio with a languid look in his eye, like he couldn't care less what happened next. "I'm really sorry, but you three are at a disadvantage against us. You're younger and smaller, but you also use Suiton. I'm sure you've noticed that Omoi and I prefer lightning. Maybe you should just call it quits?"

Ameyuri growled and stepped forward. "Not without that scroll, dumbass. You think just 'cause you can use Raiton, you got this in the bag? Think again."

Darui and Omoi exchanged a surprised look, but Samui was not deterred. "Big talk. I haven't seen you back that up at all. _So_ not cool."

Ameyuri tried to step forward again, but Mei caught her arm before she could. Ameyuri whirled and yanked her arm free.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing?" she snarled.

"What we should've done from the beginning," Mei snapped. "We can't beat them alone."

"Way to give up. I knew you were weak, but I didn't think you were such a coward."

A part of Mei wanted nothing more than to put Ameyuri in her place, but those thoughts would not aid her now. Instead, she got right in her face and whispered, "You're the coward charging in alone when you have Mangetsu and me here to help you. Open your eyes and work with me. That's an order."

"Mei," Mangetsu warned. "We're out of time."

"Then we just have to do it."

Ameyuri scowled. "Do _what_?"

"Just _trust_ me."

"Enough talk," Samui said, aiming her sword at the three of them. "Darui, your call."

Darui sighed tiredly. "Let's just get this over with."

The Cloud nin charged and Darui dragged the electrified water lashes behind him, ready to flay Mei and her team with one fell swoop. But she was ready, and she only prayed that Mangetsu and Ameyuri were, too. If they weren't she will have put her faith in them for nothing. The Academy didn't teach children to work together; there was no point when one day, they would end up having to kill each other, anyway. But she had no other choice, and if Mangetsu was right, then neither did they.

"_We're a team."_

Mei laced her fingers together in a seal and sucked in a deep breath. When she released it, acid mist spewed out at a rapid pace and quickly engulfed the area. Darui and his team stopped their advance, wary of this new technique. Mei drooped her eyes and focused on her chakra flow, its intensity, its density, how far it dispersed. Mangetsu and Ameyuri had vanished from her side, just as the world had, too. There was nothing but the fog, too thick even to breath normally.

"You have a lot of neat tricks," Darui called. "But if I can't see, neither can any of you."

Mei registered his location somewhere to her right, a buzzing fly caught up in the web of invisible chakra permeating the mist, and she retreated. Drawing a curved kunai from the pouch at her hip, she stepped lightly to minimize the chances of detection. Her chakra was redolent in the area, and whenever someone moved, she could feel it. Four figures milled around, and she gravitated toward the closest one.

"Ameyuri," she whispered.

Ameyuri grabbed Mei's wrist. "I can't see a damn thing. What'd you do?"

"Never mind that. Here." Mei waved a hand and the mist thinned before them. "I can control the density and the acidity. I just never thought of doing it before."

Ameyuri put two and two together and grinned. "All right. Guess you're not _that _bad to have around. Come on."

The two of them crept through the thick haze until Mei stopped them and motioned ahead. Someone was there. Ameyuri motioned for her to stand aside, and Mei gave her a sour look. Ameyuri rolled her eyes and drew her twin tantō. Channeling her chakra, Mei was surprised to see sparks jumping from her fingertips. But before she could say anything or stop Ameyuri, the girl lunged.

Her aim was true. Someone hit the ground with a grunt and a flash of brilliant light, and Mei's hair stood on end from the static in the air. Walking forward, she joined Ameyuri and her target: Omoi. He was passed out and bleeding from the left shoulder, but he was breathing. The wound sparked with latent electricity. Ameyuri kicked his side.

"You're not the only one who prefers lightning, douchebag," she spat.

"Omoi!" Samui called from somewhere nearby.

Mei yanked Ameyuri away from Omoi and they disappeared into the swirling mists again. Mei tracked Samui with her chakra. The girl was on the move, and fast. Mei doubled around, Ameyuri in tow, and put a hand on a nearby rock wall to rest. If they could just sneak up behind Samui, they could take her out quietly without alerting Darui.

"_Gahluhhgg_!"

A gagging sound reached them, and Ameyuri sprinted ahead, swords raised as Mei crept up behind her. When they found Samui, she was slumped on the ground with her hands around her throat. Mangetsu stood over her, his arm liquefied to the shoulder and jammed down her windpipe, drowning her.

"Whoa," Ameyuri said.

Samui convulsed and slumped to the ground on her side. Water spilled from the side of her mouth, and she didn't get up. Mangetsu re-materialized and joined his teammates.

"One more," he said, like he hadn't just waterboarded Samui with his _arm_.

Mei scanned the distance. The thick mist had soaked her clothes and hair, and it stung the wounds on her back. "Let's do this quietly," she whispered. "Come on."

Taking off at a run, she led Ameyuri and Mangetsu around intermittent stone spires, blind. Darui had decided on a height advantage, perhaps thinking he could escape the mist and gain the upper hand. Mei was not about to let him.

"Stay behind me." She threw out an arm to block her teammates' progress.

With her other hand, she formed a seal and focused her chakra in Darui's direction. It intensified and thickened, and she put everything she had into it. In the distance, she heard a muffled cry of pain followed by a _thud_. Mangetsu took off and Ameyuri was hot on his tail. Mei released the acid mist and followed as fast as she could. With their sight returned, locating Darui was a simple task. He lay on the ground, trembling and gasping for air. Mangetsu hauled him to his feet and Ameyuri acquainted her sword with his throat. Bleary eyes focused on Mei as she approached.

"You're just full of neat tricks, kid," Darui said.

"Hand over the scroll," she said. "We had a deal."

Darui's eyes swept over his fallen teammates. Omoi was starting to come to, and Samui had begun coughing up water as she doubled over on the damp ground. Darui chuckled.

"We sure did. Check my left pocket."

Mei did so and fished out the scroll he'd flaunted in her face earlier. Pocketing it, she backed away with Ameyuri. Mangetsu threw Darui onto the ground.

"Hey, you got a name?" Darui called after the Kiri team.

"I do," Mei said.

She signaled for Ameyuri and Mangetsu to follow as she dashed out of the area before Darui's teammates could come to his aid. Darui watched them go and slumped.

"All right, then," he said to himself.

Omoi managed to drag himself near enough to be heard. "Man, that was rough. That chick came outta _nowhere_. I think I might need medical attention."

"Yeah, we'll go home. Help me with Samui."

They rose and approached their female teammate, who was still doubled over trying to regain herself. Darui hauled her up and grinned.

"Idiot, it's not cool to smile when we've just lost our shot at the exams," she snapped.

"Huh? But we still have this." Darui produced another scroll from his vest and waggled it in front of Samui's face.

She gaped, and Omoi groaned.

"Man, you had two all along and you didn't tell me? We could've avoided all that nonsense. Seriously, it's not like I _like_ putting my life in danger like that," Omoi complained.

Darui shrugged. "I wanted to see how they fought. The Raikage did tell us to be careful of the Mist team."

"With good reason," Samui said.

"Anyway, let's get outta here," Omoi said. "This place gives me the creeps, and now it's all moist and stuff. Kinda gross."

"We _live_ here," Darui and Samui said in unison.

Omoi rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

* * *

"Well, congratulations on passing the first round, I guess," the proctor said, stifling a yawn. "Wait here for them to announce your, uh, match partners. Yeah."

Last night, Mei and her team had acquired their scroll and raced to the finish line, one of ten teams that had advanced to the singles round. After some brief sessions with medical ninja to heal the worst of their injuries, they'd had a night to recover before today's final round. Fifteen matches would be fought in a day's time. Some would last as long as an hour, others mere minutes. Everything was left to chance and the drawing of names from a lottery. But unlike the first test, which had hinged on each team's ability to fight as a unit, these matches were one on one, and Mei had no qualms about pulling out every trick she had to gain the upper hand. Yagura's wrath would tolerate nothing less.

A hand on her shoulder drew her from her thoughts. Ameyuri pursed her lips in a shaky sour line like she was trying to smile but had honestly never tried before. "Ready to fight?"

"I'd ask you the same thing, but you're always ready."

Ameyuri smirked, all teeth and tongue. Ferocity suited her best. "Got that right." She dropped her hand but didn't move. "Listen, Mei. Yesterday with that weird mist thing you did? That was a good move."

Mei blinked. "You can thank Mangetsu for that. It was his idea."

She averted her eyes as though troubled, but said nothing of it. "Oh, well, whatever. It was a good move."

Mei bit her lip, suddenly feeling a little warm. "Thanks."

"It looks like the Cloud team also advanced," Mangetsu said, drawing up to his teammates.

The room they were in was made of metal gratings and cement with benches lining the walls and an upper level cordoned off for the proctors. A large screen sat hanging from the ceiling at the front of the room with a view of the arena in which the Genin would be fighting. The Kage's booth could be seen on screen as the cameras swept over the crowd. Yagura sat with his short arms and legs crossed, flanked by two of the current Legendary Swordsmen, Kushimaru Kuriarare and Jinpachi Munashi. Their demonic swords, strapped to their backs, were perhaps more intimidating a sight than their respective wielders. Mei glared at the screen. Not for the first time, she wished Utakata were here.

"The Konoha teams are strong, too," Mangetsu went on. "Two of the three made it to the finals."

"Not as strong as us," Ameyuri said. "_They_ didn't have to beat the Bloody Mist to get here."

For once, Mei agreed with Ameyuri. And for once, she was grateful that Ameyuri and Mangetsu were here with her. "We won't lose."

"Okay, everyone listen up," the proctor announced from the upper level. "I'll call out the pairings as we go. Those called report to the loading dock immediately, got it?"

No one responded, but he took that as understanding.

"First up is...Baki of Suna and Shisui Uchiha of Konoha. Please report to the loading dock."

Whispers erupted from the group of gathered Genin. Mei watched as a young, dark-haired boy calmly approached the loading dock. She'd heard of the Sharingan, a terrible doujutsu capable of hypnotizing even the most formidable opponents with a single glance, though she'd never faced it herself. Shisui's eyes were dark and warm, almost inviting. She wondered what they would look like drowning in blood.

Time passed more quickly than expected, but Mei didn't bother to watch most of the matches on the screen provided. She'd seen enough bloodshed and faced the prospect of more to dwell on the suffering of others. She sat on a bench and pulled her knees to her chest, tuning out the other Genin and staring at the floor.

"Mangetsu Hozuki of Mist and Maito Gai of Konoha, please report to the loading dock."

Mangetsu locked eyes with Mei and nodded. She had the urge to stand and go to him, wish him luck or some other foolish errand, but he was gone before she had the chance. Mei bit her lip and resigned herself to watching his match on the screen. To her surprise, Ameyuri plopped down beside her.

"You do strike me as a loner, now that I think about it," Ameyuri said, pulling her knees up to her chest to mimic Mei's position.

"If I'm a loner, doesn't that mean I wanna be alone?"

Ameyuri watched her a moment, dark eyes contemplative. "You're really kinda mean, you know. What's wrong with you?"

Mei frowned. "Why do you care? You've only ever been out to get me this whole time."

Ameyuri rolled her eyes. "I said thanks, didn't I?"

A tense silence stretched between them, one that Mei had no idea how to break. Utakata had been her only friend for so long. Mangetsu was one thing, but Ameyuri? No way.

"How'd you do it? The mist, I mean," Ameyuri tried again.

"Why should I tell you?"

"'Cause I wanna _know_, obviously. We're a team, right? That's what you said."

Mei's anger dissolved at those words. Team? Hardly. They had stumbled along in the dark, hoping for the best. And then, they got lucky. She still wondered if Darui hadn't let them win. His team was here now, so obviously they'd had a backup plan in the end. But still...

"I guess there's no other word for us," Mei conceded.

Ameyuri nudged her shoulder and grinned. "So, spill. How'd you do it?"

Mei smiled to herself. "I told you, it was Mangetsu's idea."

"Yeah, fine, but how can _I _do it? You know, that'd be a great move with my lightning attacks. Nobody'd see me coming."

"Yeah, I guess it would."

Mei spent the next ten minutes explaining to Ameyuri the mechanics behind her bloodline limit, and they discussed how it might be done with regular ninjutsu. The trouble was a water source.

"I guess you'd have to have one nearby," Mei said. "That's kind of annoying."

"Plenty of water in the world. Mangetsu's practically made of the stuff."

There was no good reason and it wasn't even funny at all, but for some reason Mei couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, he is. Maybe you could use him."

Ameyuri threw her head back and guffawed loudly, uncaring of the stares she got. Mei shrank away at the looks, however.

"Good one, Lava Girl," she said once she'd caught her breath.

Mei frowned at the moniker. "That's pretty unoriginal."

Ameyuri leaned in and waggled her eyebrows. "Yeah, but it's fitting. Better use that when you fight. I bet these guys'll piss themselves when they see it."

Mei held her gaze and felt a smirk threatening to give her away. "I will."

"Ameyuri Ringo of Mist and Omoi of Cloud, please report to the loading dock," the proctor's voice boomed through the loudspeaker.

Ameyuri groaned. "Oh man, you gotta be _kidding _me! Not that jerk again!"

She rose and Mei grabbed her wrist. "Beat him, Ameyuri."

Ameyuri pulled her hand away just enough so she could shake Mei's. "That's the promise of a lifetime, lemme tell you."

Mei smiled and Ameyuri jogged to the exit. Alone once more, Mei curled in on herself and resolved to just wait until she heard her name called. Mangetsu and Ameyuri were gone now, having done well enough in their matches to pass the exam. It wasn't about winning, per se. It was about survival. Creativity and ingenuity. She was the last one, but the thought of Yagura didn't help bolster her confidence much. Somehow she didn't think he'd give her points for effort if she ended up losing. The hours passed until finally, toward the end of the day, her name was called.

"Mei Terumī of Mist and Kakashi Hatake of Konoha, please report to the loading dock."

Mei immediately looked around to spot whoever her opponent was, but no one seemed to be walking toward the exit. She slowly untangled herself and ambled toward the exit on heavy feet. The proctor was there to meet her and escort her out. The doors opened to a cheering crowd of onlookers, Yagura among them, though Mei imagined he was not cheering or even smiling. The sun was bright and high in the afternoon sky. Its rays cast shimmering heat over the battlefield, which was outfitted with a few trees, boulders, and even a small pond. The rest was open, barren sand.

Just then, a young boy emerged beside her. Before Mei could get a good look at him, the proctor prompted them both to march into the searing afternoon sun. All of a sudden, the crowd's cheering hit her like a slap in the face. Never had Mei experienced the weight of so many eyes, so many calls for blood. Academy Graduation had been a brutal experience, but it had been limited to the private eyes of her instructors and Yagura himself. A spectacle of this magnitude was unheard of in the Bloody Mist.

The proctor led her and the boy walking beside her to the middle of the arena. Once she got her bearings, Mei took a moment to look at him properly. He was of a height with her, probably around the same age if she had to guess, or a little younger. His silver hair stood up at angles, untamable, but most striking of all was the mask he wore. She could only see his eyes, and they gave nothing away but darkness. The rest of him was hidden.

"Match is over when one of you forfeits, falls unconscious, or dies," the proctor explained. "Promotion depends on your performance, not on the outcome, but victory will be taken into consideration."

Mei barely heard the proctor as she continued to examine her opponent, a habit drilled into her from a young age by her Academy teachers. Most people gave everything away when they felt relaxed and safe, like right now. Kakashi, however, stood rigid and stony-faced. His mask hid his expression, and his dark eyes left everything to the imagination. He caught her looking, and he held her gaze with an ease that gave her chills. She narrowed her eyes.

_Who are you?_

"There's no time limit, but try not to drag it out. It's getting late," the proctor went on. "Okay, begin."

He jumped to safety, leaving Mei alone with the Kakashi and the roaring crowd.

"What're you looking at?" Kakashi asked.

Mei stepped backward as though his words bore an edge that needed defending against. "Nothing."

He reached over his shoulder and drew a short sword with a gleaming white blade. When he swung it down, it left a blazing trail, a trick of the light, perhaps. Beautiful, but death usually was. Mei swallowed.

_More swords. Great._

At least that made things easier. She just needed to keep her distance.

Kakashi advanced. "Good."

It began. Right away, Mei learned that more than his physical strength, his unreadable expression, and even his skill with the sword, Kakashi was _fast_. The match devolved into a one-way punching bag with Kakashi slashing with his blade and Mei twisting and backpedalling to avoid the blows. The crowd cheered, either for his advantage or her humiliation. With each cornering step, Mei realized the price she would have to pay for her lack of celerity and swordsmanship.

Gritting her teeth, she stayed her movement just long enough for Kakashi to sink his blade into her shoulder. Pain erupted from the entry wound and spread through broken bone and muscle. Blood warmed her skin and stained her blue gi, filling her nose with an acrid coppery stench, but she pushed past it. Grabbing his sword hand at the hilt and holding fast, she held him in place long enough to exact retribution. Mei opened her mouth and released a noxious cloud of acid mist directly at Kakashi's chest and face.

Hard, green eyes watched as he recoiled in both shock and agony. Kakashi cried out and staggered backward. She let him go and took the opportunity to put some distance between them. The crowd lauded the unexpected turn in circumstances, but Mei found no joy in their voyeurism. Instead, her attention remained focused on Kakashi, who was clutching his face and ripping at it. Shreds of navy material fell from his fingers—the remains of his mask. It had shielded his face from the brunt of her attack, but the blood running down his cheeks marked the areas where her acid had eaten through his barrier. A bare face stared back at her, lips curled in pain as adrenaline worked overtime to dampen it. Without his mask, he was baby-faced and young—just a boy too good to be left alone.

"Mei Terumī, right?" he called, his voice raspy.

Mei glared in response.

Kakashi's breath was labored as he willed the pain in his face away. "Bold move. But I've never lost a fight. I'm not about to start today."

_We'll see about that._

She laced her fingers together and resolved to end this before he could come close again. The chakra burned her throat, and she relished in it, having forgotten about her wounded shoulder almost entirely. When she spat out a thick stream of molten lava at Kakashi, the crowd's cheering erupted into a sonorous roar. Kakashi didn't stick around to find out how bad this was going to be. He bolted, but Mei gave chase. She spat both steady streams of magma and short, bulleted bursts, the latter of which were faster but covered less square footage. Kakashi was fast, she would give him that, but one wrong move and he'd be a goner. It wasn't long before the arena was covered in pools of undulating lava, brighter than the sun itself.

But Kakashi would not be deterred. He weaved among the pools and lunged for Mei, sword drawn, and she knew there was no dodging this time. The only recourse was to force his hand. She inhaled and spewed more acid, this time adjusted to be harmless, and faded within its depths. In a matter of seconds, the entire arena was engulfed in fog, taking Mei and Kakashi with it.

* * *

Yagura watched Mei's match silently from his perch in between the Hokage and the Tsuchikage. He offered no reaction to her flamboyant display of her two bloodline limits, but his colleagues did.

"That's girl's a monster," the Tsuchikage, Oonoki, said. "Two bloodline limits, eh? Yagura, I thought you lot didn't cultivate that."

Yagura smirked but otherwise didn't acknowledge Oonoki. "Not in bulk."

The Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, shifted in his chair. "Still, Kakashi is one of our best. That girl is good, but there's no guarantee she can beat him."

Yagura faced the Hokage and the two guards that flanked him. "I'm sure he is. But don't forget that my Genin have all passed. There's a reason for that, Sarutobi."

Hiruzen chuckled, and the wrinkles around his eyes crinkled even more, giving him the air of a kind grandfather. But Yagura was not fooled. There was nothing kind about this man.

"Yes, that's true! Your team this year is astounding. The ones you brought to the last exams, what were their names? Ah yes, Kisame Hoshigaki and Zabuza Momochi. Also quite formidable."

"Like I said, there's a reason for that."

"Your Bloody Mist regime has produced extraordinary results, sir," one of Hiruzen's personal guards said.

Yagura glared at the young man. He knew what they said about Mist across the continent, and that infernal name, _Bloody Mist_, was the worst of it. "You speak rather freely for hired muscle."

Hiruzen chuckled again and waved off the confrontation. "You'll forgive my, ah, hired muscle, I hope. After all, he'll soon succeed me as the Fourth Hokage, and I'm sure you'll want to pursue a mutually beneficial relationship. Yagura, I'd like to introduce Minato Namikaze. He also happens to be young Kakashi's mentor."

"The pleasure's all mine," Minato said, smiling thinly.

Yagura instantly disliked the man. "Yes, it is."

Below, Mei was chasing Kakashi around the arena with her lava technique and razing the entire area. Soon, not much would be left but blackened pools of molten rock.

"Hm, if she keeps that up she may tire herself out," Minato said to Hiruzen.

Hiruzen watched the battle, eyes steady. "Ah."

Yagura suppressed a growl and once more turned to the Konoha shinobi. "Care to put a wager on that?"

"Lord Mizukage, surely you don't mean to equate one of your prized kunoichi with a common show horse," Minato said.

Yagura laughed. "You have a lot to learn if you'll be a Kage one day. What good would a pawn be to her king if he couldn't count on her to destroy the opposition at his beck and call?"

"I'll take that bet," Hiruzen interrupted before Minato could respond. "What shall we wager for?"

"The only thing that matters." Yagura returned his attention to the battlefield, where Mei had somehow engulfed the arena in a thick mist that obscured Kakashi and her from view. The crowd hollered ever louder. "Reputation."

* * *

Kakashi looked left and right, but the fog didn't let up. He couldn't see two feet in front of him, and despite the training he'd received under Minato and his natural calm under pressure, he began to panic. He'd never seen a technique like this, and even the thought that she was probably as blind in here as he was didn't offer much solace. She wouldn't put herself at such a risk. Or maybe she would. If she'd been willing to let him stab her just to create an opening, then there was no telling to what insane lengths she would go now.

He wandered, the Hakkō blade raised in front of him, as he struggled to breathe normally. The fog was so thick that he was soon drenched to the bone and swallowing water. It was just water, not like the acid spray she'd surprised him with earlier. His mask was totally disintegrated, and he felt naked without it. He rubbed the raw skin around his mouth.

How could some grubby little girl possess this kind of power? It was unheard of among his peers in Konoha. Techniques like the Sharingan and the Byakugan were considered among the deadliest, but _lava_?

_What kind of place is the Bloody Mist?_

Everyone had heard the rumors of that hell on earth where children were raised to die killing each other and the Mizukage was a monster wearing a man's skin. To grow up in such a place... Kakashi couldn't imagine what it must be like. And she had _survived _it. A nick in his left bicep made him jump and whirl into position, but he could see nothing. Tensing, he soon felt another slash in his calf. As fast as he could, he swung Hakkō around with deadly intent, but only a few strands of auburn hair fell to his blade.

"If you were just going to blind me, why bother destroying my mask at all?"

She didn't respond, but he heard the telltale shift of feet over the rocky ground and lunged. His fist collided with something soft, and he wrestled her to the ground. Angry green eyes glared up at him, and he raised Hakkō.

"Like I said, I've never lost a battle," he said.

He brought down the blade in her already wounded shoulder, and Mei dissolved into water, drenching him anew. Kakashi dismissed his mistake in stride and rolled, narrowly missing a swipe from a nasty curved kunai. The real Mei came at him with a ruthlessness he hadn't picked up on until this moment, when she was merely inches away. Hakkō caught her kunai and they parried.

The clash of steel rang through the arena as Kakashi and Mei tried to unbalance each other, all while carefully sidestepping the gurgling pools of lava. The breeze was starting to dissipate the fog she had created, and the faceless masses came back into view. Caught in a battle of strength, Kakashi pushed on Hakkō while Mei held her ground. They were stuck in a stalemate, one he intended to break first.

Channeling chakra through his entire body, sparks jumped to life and gathered at his hands. Mei noticed the change and tried to break the contact, but he was too fast. Freeing up a hand, she lost her balance as he swung around and delivered an electrified punch to the side of her face.

Mei went flying, and Kakashi ran after her. She rolled to a stop, incredibly, through a lava pool. Kakashi skidded to halt to avoid the molten mixture, and Mei struggled to stand. Sparks danced across her face and made her hair stand on end. Her skin would bruise later, but already ugly welts began to rise, red and painful, along her temple and jawline. The crowd in the stands cheered their approval, and Kakashi saw her cast them a look of abject hatred. She spit blood from her mouth and struggled to stand among the bubbling magma beneath her feet.

"It's over," Kakashi said. "You can barely stand."

Mei bared her teeth like an animal, feral and cornered. "Yeah, it is."

Her voice was steady and deep for such a small, mangy girl. It was Kakashi's last thought as she slammed her hands into the lava at her feet and the battlefield exploded.

The lava drained from the pools around the arena and burst from the earth in geysers. The rocky ground split and spat up jagged chunks that flew at Kakashi, who had to scramble to avoid them. He dodged to avoid a sharp rock spike and was on a collision course with a lava spout—certain death. Gritting his teeth, he swerved to avoid it (narrowly) and slammed headfirst into flying debris hard enough to see stars. He crumpled to the ground, and some of his hair burned off when it got too close to the spewing magma.

Voices screamed in his ear, far away, as his vision began to double. Something warm and sticky got in his eye, and it was forced to close. He finally rolled over and threw up water and bile as he gasped for breath and consciousness. Nearby, Mei struggled on her hands and knees, barely conscious herself, but he caught her words:

"You lost, Kakashi."

Magma bubbled near his head, and he was sure she would finish him, roast him until even his bones turned to ash. But the magma didn't move, suspended in its flow as she stared, one eye swollen shut with electrical burns. He heaved and winced at the burn in his throat, never mind the throbbing in his head that probably indicated a severe concussion.

"Your victory," he conceded.

Her arms shook, like it was too much effort just to stay upright until the medical team could retrieve her.

"No," she said. "It's not mine." She collapsed to the ground not far from him, elbows shaking as she tried in vain to get back up.

Sleep had never sounded so good, but Kakashi fought to stay conscious until the medics could retrieve him. His dark eyes drifted to the booth where he knew Minato and the Hokage were watching the fight. He supposed Mei's Mizukage would be there, too. Silent players watching their pieces collide. He could have laughed, but he only puked up more bile.

The medical team arrived with a team of Suiton users who supercooled the magma. Hands without bodies pulled at Kakashi and lifted him off the ground. The crowd roared in his ears until they rang.


	3. Beauty

**Chimera, Chapter 3: Beauty  
**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

When she found him, he was at his usual spot at the fishers' docks. His feet dangled over the edge of the dock, and she imagined his toes dipping in the water as soft waves lapped at them. Salt stained his light blue yukata and gave the illusion of a pattern of clouds at his feet from a distance. Mei smiled enough to make her cheeks hurt.

"Utakata!" She ran toward him.

Utakata looked back over his shoulder at her with wide golden eyes. When he saw her tripping over herself to hurry up and get to him, he grinned and rose to meet her. Mei threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Utakata swung her around in the air and laughed.

"You're back!"

"Yeah, and a Chuunin!"

"That's good. I knew you'd pass."

They sat down together at the edge of the dock, and Mei relished in the cool seawater kissing her toes. A light fog hung over the seascape and crept over the village's shoreline. She took a deep breath.

"I'm just glad it's over."

Utakata watched her, his eyes half-lidded. "You missed this place that much, huh?"

Mei wrinkled her nose. "It's not like that. Well, maybe a little. I guess this is home, you know?"

Utakata averted his gaze toward the horizon obscured by thick fog. "I guess it's the only one we've got."

She put her hand over his. "It's home because you're here."

His hands were soft, like hers. Unmarred. Neither was used to wielding swords and staves. No one would ever guess what those small soft hands had done.

"You know," Utakata said, squeezing her hand, "I think home's what you make of it. Even a place like this. If you wanted to make it better, you could."

Mei frowned and retracted her hand. "No, you can't."

_Not while _he's_ here._

She dared not speak the words, for Yagura had eyes and ears everywhere. But Utakata understood her meaning enough not to ask.

"Yeah, you can." He flashed her a bright smile. "It's people who built this dock, those houses, everything. It's up to them to make this place a good home."

Mei pulled her knees up to her chest. "If you say so."

They sat in silence for a while until voices found them.

"How do you even know she's out here?"

"I pay attention."

"You're seriously weird, you know that?"

Ameyuri and Mangetsu bickered as they walked along the shoreline. Mangetsu looked about ready to fall asleep while Ameyuri bombarded him with questions and complaints. He carried two small trays of fried calamari rings.

Utakata tensed as the pair drew nearer. "I didn't know they were friends."

Mei stood up and waved. "Hey! Looking for me?"

Ameyuri spotted her and made a beeline for her position. "_There _you are! Do you have any idea the kinda morning I had with this idiot?"

Utakata stood up, too, but he remained rooted to the spot as Mei jogged to meet Ameyuri and Mangetsu.

"Ameyuri's been looking for you all over town," Mangetsu said.

Ameyuri drew one of her swords. "Dumbass! I have _not_!" She attempted to slash him, but he liquefied on contact and her blade passed right through him, harmless. "Goddamnit, cut that out!"

"Is that supposed to be a pun?" Mangetsu asked.

"Mei." Utakata put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay," Mei said. "They helped me out a lot during the Chuunin exams. They're okay."

Utakata didn't release her, and his grip tensed as Ameyuri and Mangetsu approached. But he said nothing and flashed them a lopsided smile.

"That for us?" he asked, indicating the fried calamari.

Mangetsu shrugged and held out a tray. "You should eat it before the piranha does."

"What the _shit _did you just call me?" Ameyuri grabbed him by the collar, and he accidentally spilled a couple calamari rings.

Mei took one of the trays, and with his free hand Mangetsu plucked a calamari ring from the remaining tray and shoved it into Ameyuri's mouth. She staggered, suspended in a moment of uncertainty over whether to chew and admit defeat or spit it out and waste good food. Despite herself, Mei laughed. Utakata loosened his death grip on her shoulder.

"You gah fomefin' to fay?" Ameyuri sputtered through a mouthful of seafood.

"Yeah. How'd you beat that Cloud ninja in the singles?"

Ameyuri lit up and swallowed her food. She then launched into an animated recounting of her 'incredible fight' and how she totally trounced 'that dumbass Omoi' with his own secret weapon: lightning. They found themselves sitting on the dock in a circle as first Ameyuri and then Mangetsu recounted their fights. Mei was the last to go, and recalling the battle from afar dulled some of the abject humiliation of the entire spectacle. Perhaps it was time past, or maybe the grease on her fingers that no amount of licking could quite clean off.

"So the Hiding in Mist technique worked," Mangetsu said.

Ameyuri put up a hand. "Okay, whoa, who said you could call it that? That sounds totally gay."

"I invented it."

"Don't go stealin' the glory!"

"You did give me the idea, but I'm the one with the mist," Mei said.

Mangetsu swallowed. "I see how it is."

Utakata stood up abruptly. "It's just fog, right? Teach me how to do it!"

Ameyuri was quick to follow his lead. "Hey, yeah, me too!"

Mei rose. "I don't know how to teach a clan technique." Mangetsu stared at his feet as he remained seated. Mei held out a hand to him. "But we're a team, right? Help us out."

Mangetsu eyed her hand but didn't take it. "The exams're over."

"You're Mangetsu Hozuki," Utakata said. "You were top of our class in ninjutsu theory. You sayin' you can't even manage a little _dew_?"

Ameyuri grinned. "Damn straight."

"The game's still going," Mei said. "And I never planned on losing."

Mangetsu looked between the three of them. "Fine. Maybe I can come up with something even amateurs like you could handle."

"Who're you calling 'amateur', you overgrown juice box?" Ameyuri brandished a fist.

Mei bit back a smile. "Come on, let's do it on the beach."

* * *

Mei was soaking wet but more content than she'd felt in a long time. The beach sand squelched between her bare toes as she ran around in the mist and felt for another presence. The four newly-minted Chuunin had been at it all morning with Mangetsu at the helm attempting to come up with a way to replicate Mei's mist technique. Unbelievably, he'd made progress.

"You're putting too much chakra into it." Mangetsu snuck up on Utakata and pointed a kunai at his throat.

Utakata swallowed. "Hah, sorry, guess it's hard when you're not made of water."

Mangetsu said nothing as he studied his fellow Mist shinobi. Mei hung back and watched. No one had ever said more than two words to Utakata in their Academy days, too afraid of the beast that slept within him. Mangetsu didn't seem to have a problem addressing him. Perhaps now he finally had something to talk about. There was no fear in his bright violet eyes, only curiosity. The mist cleared as the group ended the training session, exhausted. Ameyuri plopped down on the sand and chewed on a piece of jerky she'd hidden up her sleeve. Mei eyed it covetously.

"Want some?" Ameyuri ripped off a hunk of jerky and held it out to Mei.

She accepted it without a word and sank into the sand next to Ameyuri. They chowed down together in near silence as the boys stretched somewhere behind them.

"So who're you gonna train with?" Ameyuri asked.

"Huh?"

"You _know_. Now we're Chuunin so we need instructors. Whatcha gonna do? Obviously you can't be a legendary swordsman. I mean, you're literally the worst at that stuff."

Mei shoved her hard with an elbow, and Ameyuri retaliated by jamming her heel into Mei's foot. Mei scowled and pulled her knees to her chest.

"I dunno. No one can do what I do," she said.

"Maybe that's a good thing. You're kind of a freak, you know."

Mei bit back a grin and nudged Ameyuri. "Shut up."

"I didn't realize today was a holiday," a gruff voice said.

Mei and Ameyuri sprang to their feet to face the newcomers intruding on their sanctuary. Mei set her jaw at the sight of them. Kisame grinned at her like he had a secret he was _dying _to share. His partner, Zabuza, stood beside him. He was a tall, brooding boy with condescending eyes. His face was half obscured by a bandana. Mei was reminded of Kakashi, and she tensed.

"I heard you made Chuunin," Kisame said.

His beady eyes lingered on Mei as he continued to grin, and she wondered if he even knew how to look any other way.

"What's it to you?" she said.

Zabuza stepped forward. "We're your superiors. Watch your tone."

"You wanna say that again?" Ameyuri growled.

Mei put an arm in front of Ameyuri. "You're not our superiors, you just outrank us because you're older. The only difference between you and me is that you were lucky enough to be born first."

Zabuza narrowed his eyes. "Cheeky. You know I could kill you if I wanted."

"You could try."

Utakata and Mangetsu noticed what was happening and joined the group. They stood behind Mei and Ameyuri, but they said nothing. Zabuza scowled and averted his gaze.

Kisame just laughed. "I'll take you up on that one day."

Mei had nothing to say to that, so she settled for a healthy glare.

"He's gonna hate you," Kisame said.

"Huh? Who're you talking about?"

Zabuza recovered enough to command attention back to him. "You know, you're not home free. The real shit starts now. If you don't have what it takes, Yagura'll weed you out. All of you."

"I got what it takes," Ameyuri said. "You wait and see."

Zabuza exchanged a look with Kisame, who gave nothing away of his thoughts. "We'll see, runt."

Ameyuri gaped and tried to go after them, but Mangetsu grabbed her arms and restrained her. "You punk! What the hell's that s'posed to mean, huh?!"

"It's time for you to leave," Utakata said softly.

Zabuza shrugged and crossed his arms. Kisame merely grinned wider. "Sure thing, kid. But I wanna know what you came up with today."

"And if we don't wanna tell you?" Ameyuri spat.

"I'll make a full report when it's finished," Mangetsu said.

All eyes turned to him. Ameyuri looked ready to rip him a new one.

"Perfect," Kisame said. "Well, be seeing you."

He nodded to Mei, but she didn't return the gesture and watched him retreat with Zabuza.

Ameyuri finally struggled free and whirled on the boys. "What the hell?! What d'you mean we're gonna hand over all the secrets to them?"

"You know how it works here. Yagura has to know everything so we're ready for the worst," Mangetsu said.

"Oh please, you don't seriously buy that bull."

"I believe he'd kill us for keeping it from him," Utakata said.

Ameyuri growled. "You're a goddamned Jinchuuriki! What could he do to you, seriously?"

"He could hurt the people I love."

Mei put a hand on Utakata's shoulder. He was trembling. "Whatever, they're gone now, so who cares? We had a good day of training."

Utakata bared his teeth at her, and she pulled her hand away. Before she had a chance to say anything, he walked away.

"He's angry," Mangetsu said as they watched Utakata go.

Mei nodded. "Yeah..."

She hugged her arms to her chest and shivered, suddenly cold.

* * *

For nearly a week, Mei trained with her friends and lost track of the world. Friends? She supposed she could call them that. They weren't enemies or burdens or bullies. They weren't technically teammates anymore, either. Maybe 'friend' was the only appropriate term for someone she didn't feel like killing the first chance she got. Not because she wasn't allowed, but because the world would have been a little darker without them.

Mangetsu's report to Yagura didn't generate anything new, but Mei kept looking over her shoulder anyway. It would one day, she was sure of it. It was a good technique, no doubt about it. And used right, it could facilitate mass murder like it had never been possible before. But Yagura was like an exotic animal. He kept to the shadows just out of sight, elusive, until it was too late to defend because he'd had his eyes on you all along and you just didn't know it. Like the inevitability of death, it was only a matter of time.

Today, inevitability decided to catch up with Mei as she met the man who would become her instructor for the foreseeable future. He waited on the beach as she finished up with her friends for the day, and she would have walked right by him if she hadn't noticed his shinobi garb. A long katana, longer than any she'd seen on another shinobi, was strapped to his hip. He also carried multiple knives in holsters at his thighs, ankles, chest, and back. Enough to arm a small garrison.

"Mei Terumī?" he said as she approached.

Mei stopped and felt her heels sink into the damp sand. She said nothing.

"I asked you a question, girl."

"Yes, sir," she said.

He eyed her a moment, not patronizing but merely studious, the way one might examine a museum exhibit or strange, untested dish. And before she knew what hit her, he drew a dagger from his hip and flung it at her. Mei was too slow to avoid it, and it cut a deep, ugly gash in her shoulder. Blood flowed freely from the fresh wound and stained her blue sleeve. Reacting on instinct, she crouched and channeled chakra to her throat for a lava technique. The man narrowed his eyes.

"Pick that up."

Mei was ready to let him have it because screw this old man, he had no right to attack her like this unannounced. But before she could even blink, he had body flickered and reappeared directly in front of her with his fist in her collar and his nose in her face. Lava seeped from the edges of her mouth, but her eyes were wide with surprise and a little fear. The only other person who had dared come this close with her technique active had been Kisame.

"Did I stutter, girl?"

Mei's chakra died down as though doused with cold water, and she slumped in his grip. Up close, she could make out the details of his face quite clearly. His eyes were an unforgiving charcoal, mirthless. His cheeks were sunken, like someone had poked holes in his skin with needles and let the life drain out of him. Stubble prickled his upper lip and chin, as sharp as the knife that had slashed her shoulder. He stared her down like he could divine all her failures, and there were surely many.

She swallowed. "No, sir."

He released her and she wiped her mouth with a sleeve. The dagger had embedded in the sand not far behind her, and she retrieved it without another word. Turning it hilt first, she held it out to her attacker.

"Keep it," he said. "If you're too slow to beat it, then your only choice is to learn how."

A moment of silence passed between them. Mei lowered the weapon and straightened up.

"I don't fight with knives."

He pressed his lips together in a deep frown. "We live in the Bloody Mist. You'd best arm yourself because no one else here will save you."

At the mention of that taboo moniker, Mei bit her tongue. He had nerve to utter that out loud behind these walls. But it wasn't because of this that she responded, but because of the truth she heard in his words. A truth she'd known for as long as she could remember.

"Who are you?"

"To you, apparently, I'm Sensei." His lip curled at the word. "But to everyone else, I'm Ganryū."

* * *

"Your problem is that you're slow and you think you're not."

Mei picked herself up from the ground and clutched her bleeding side. Ganryū's katana was coated in her blood, but the dagger in her hand was as clean as a whistle. Not once in their three months of training so far had she managed to land a single hit on him. Of course, that was only because he refused to let her use ninjutsu. The rules of engagement were simple: swords and fists. No chakra, no bloodline limits.

"_Why?" _she'd asked him when he'd laid out the rules.

"_Because every shinobi finds herself without chakra or access to special techniques at the worst possible time. Do you want to die with the masses, or do you want to live today and rule them tomorrow?"_

She wanted to live, of course, and thus the rules. But the way he was flaying her every day was killing her slowly, she wanted to remind him. She did once, and he cut her so badly she needed professional medical attention.

_Bloody Mist, indeed. _

"Ganryū!"

On this particular day, they had company.

"I told you two not to disturb my training hours," Ganryū said.

A burly man with wavy hair and a kind smile slapped him on the back. "Oh come on, everyone needs a break! Besides, we wanted to meet your new protégé. You've been hiding her all this time!"

Mei continued to clutch her side as she eyed the two newcomers. The woman, a lithe blonde with kind eyes, put a hand on Ganryū's shoulder and pecked him on the cheek.

"And we've missed you," she said with a smile.

Ganryū didn't react to her affection, but he didn't push her away.

"Suiren, Junsai, this is my student, Mei Terumī," he said.

All eyes turned to her, and Mei held her chin up despite her injury. Junsai approached first, his smile gone. "You're hurt, kid. Lemme take a look."

Mei backed away on instinct, and he crouched down to one knee so he was looking up at her. His big, brown eyes were deep and calming. "It's okay, I'm a medic. Mind if I take a look?"

It was hard not to want to trust this man. His aura was so soothing that Mei started to feel drowsy. She caught Ganryū's eye and he held her gaze.

"Okay," she said.

Junsai's smile widened and he raised a glowing green hand to her side. Within minutes, the gash in her side was sealed up and no longer hurting. All that remained was the rip in her shirt.

"Guess the old man's been fair with you, huh?"

Mei said nothing, but he must have read some sign of confusion on her face.

"I mean, he hasn't taken on a student before. They've been bugging him to, but he never liked the candidates. I guess you're the first."

"Never?"

Junsai chuckled and rose to his full height. "He's fair. Just remember that."

Suiren was speaking in hushed tones with Ganryū, and Mei couldn't detect what they were saying. By the time Junsai gave her some space, they had finished their conversation. Ganryū still looked as sour as ever, but he held Suiren's hand. She smiled at him.

"Well, we'll see you later tonight, then. Good luck with the rest of your training," she said.

Ganryū nodded. Junsai shook his hand and bid him farewell. He saluted Mei as he turned to leave. Once they were gone Ganryū was quick to get back to work.

"Your teammates?" Mei asked.

"Yes."

"He was nice."

"No one in this village is nice. If you don't know that already, you're a bigger idiot than I could've imagined."

Mei bristled. "I only meant he was kind to me. Not many people are. Especially not you."

It was Ganryū's turn to bristle. "I'm not here to be kind to you. I'm here to make sure you don't die out there. Yagura has plans for you, and you need to be alive to carry them out."

Mei twirled the dagger in her hand. There was no anger, but there was _something. _Something about him. "What kinds of plans?"

"Plans you wouldn't understand yet. You're still a child."

Mei walked toward him, and he stood his ground. His hand tightened on the tantō at his hip. She stopped just a foot in front of him.

"I had a team once. We won."

Ganryū narrowed his eyes. "No, you didn't. You were only playing."

Mei channeled chakra to her feet and moved without thinking.

"_Don't think."_

That had been her first lesson. Don't think? How could she not think? Why wouldn't she? But thinking takes more time than breathing, than cutting, than killing, things that she could do all at once. Best not to think and regret it later. The edge of her knife slashed through his thigh, clean and almost silent. The blade glistened with his blood. Mei stared at it, suddenly tempted to run her finger across it.

"No one else here will save me," she said, a little mystified at the sight of his blood on her sword.

Ganryū eyed the knife in her hands, but gave no indication of his pain even as his blood flowed freely down his leg onto the ground. "You're learning."

They stared at each other in silence. For the first time since she'd known him, he almost smiled.

* * *

Training with Ganryū was not a pleasant experience. He pushed Mei hard, and not in the way she'd been pushed at the Academy. There were no fights to the death, no formalities. There were just the knives and rules he set. There was only one way to win, and even that was not a win. Not really. He was faster, more observant, and able to improvise at the drop of a hat. Unless she could play this game better than him, she would never truly win. But she tried.

"Here's your problem," he told her one sunny afternoon as they breaked for lunch. "I can teach you how to get faster and improve your technique, but I can't make you be more aware of what's going on around you. You have to figure that out on your own."

"I have eyes."

Twelve and still so stubborn. Even a year with Ganryū had not brought her up to his standards.

"But you don't use them." He munched on a sandwich. "I'll just have to force you to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm certified delusional for thinking there's still hope for you."

Mei huffed and set down her lunch. "If you'd just let me use my clan techniques, it'd be different."

Ganryū sighed. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. You don't _see_. Those techniques are a crutch because you rely on them for everything. Listen to me, Mei. No matter how strong and special you think you are, there will always be someone better. _Always. _And all it takes is crossing paths with him at the wrong time to end you. In all your arrogance, you'll never know what hit you."

Mei was quiet as she thought about his words. Unbidden, a memory of the Chuunin exams returned to her. Kakashi had fought well back then, one of many worthy opponents. But she would never forget the look in his eyes. Confidence, even in the face of defeat. Like he knew something she didn't.

"Ah, you've already met someone like that, haven't you?"

Mei shifted in her spot, no longer hungry. "I beat him. It doesn't matter."

"But you linger on it. That's what happens when you win on luck alone. It's the same as defeat."

Mei stood up and scowled. "Then what should I do?"

They were lunching on the beach. Waves pelted the sand in the distance, rhythmic and reliable as they had always been. Her gray Chuunin vest had patches sewn on to cover the many knife wounds it had suffered in her training.

"The best way to learn is from people who're better than you," Ganryū said.

"You're better than me."

Ganryū scowled. "Like I said, no vision. Come on, are you finished?"

They cleaned up their lunch and she followed him out of the village a ways. They usually stuck to the outskirts where the training grounds lay. Beaches, rock faces, and abandoned suburbs that once belonged to clans long since purged. It was quiet there. Mei kept her eyes ahead.

"Where're we going?" she asked.

"For those who lack vision, the only way to get them to see is by example."

He led her through a ghost town where the buildings were crumbling and dilapidated. Not even birds chirped here. The late afternoon sun cast a rich golden glow on the weathered houses.

"I watch you fight all the time," Mei said.

It was then that she heard the sound of steel clashing and crunching nearby. Curious, Mei tried to see between the ruined houses and find the source.

"Perhaps with a more familiar subject, you'll start to actually _see_ something instead of just watching."

Two fighters were engaged in battle at the edge of the abandoned settlement. Mei watched, mesmerized, as they clashed in a battle so elegant and fluid, it was more like a dance than a spar. They didn't speak. The only sounds came from their crossing swords, their short breaths, and the quiet swish of feet in the grass. For a moment, Mei lost her breath.

Noticing that they had company, the two fighters halted their activity. The bigger one, a hulking man with a wide girth, set down his sword in the grass with a heavy _thud_. It was thicker than any sword Mei had seen, and it moved. The longer she stared, the more clearly she could make out the scales trembling down the length of it.

"Samehada," the second, smaller fighter said as he drew up to Mei. "You should see it in a real fight."

"Kisame," Mei said.

He was nearly a foot taller than her at fifteen-years-old, broad-shouldered and still growing. But the toothy grin that hid secrets hadn't changed. She saw it now as he looked down at her, and she suddenly hated how grimy her face was after getting thrown in the dirt too many times today by Ganryū.

"Hey, kid."

She bristled at the infantilizing nickname, but thought better of saying anything in the presence of Kisame's sparring partner. He lumbered toward the newcomers as though it was a monumental task, even though he'd been moving with incredible agility and grace only moments ago.

"Ganryū," he said in a deep rumbling voice.

Ganryū bowed low. "Suikazan, sir. Please excuse the intrusion. I did not intend to interrupt your training."

Mei stepped away from Kisame and mimicked her teacher's reverence and bowed low. Suikazan Fuguki was a respected member of the Seven Swordsmen and head of the Cypher Division. He wielded the demon sword, Samehada, rumored to be the most wicked of the legendary blades with a sentience of its own. Fuguki himself was as imposing a sight as his sword with a shock of orange hair folded into knots and dusting the ground around his feet. The only part of him more eye-catching than Samehada was his impressive belly.

"Hmph." Fuguki didn't bother returning the bow and just glanced between the uninvited visitors. "Something you need, or are you just here to waste my time?"

"No, sir. I was hoping to observe your training session. It would be beneficial for my student to see a true master such as yourself practicing his craft," Ganryū said quickly.

Mei peered between Ganryū and Fuguki as she listened to their conversation. Ganryū was like a completely different person. She'd never heard him apologize for anything in all their time together, much less ask permission. But Fuguki was one of the Seven Swordsmen. To disrespect him was to invite death.

"Well, I suppose when you put it that way, I have to agree. Just stay out of my way."

Ganryū bowed again and Mei backed away with him. Kisame winked at her before turning back to his master.

"I thought he'd say no for a minute," Mei confided when they were out of earshot.

"Most battles are fought not with words, not swords. Choose them wisely, and you can claim victory even over a legendary swordsman."

"You tricked him?"

Ganryū pressed his lips together in annoyance. "It's not a trick. A warrior's ego is just a familiar opponent to me." He spared her a withering glance when he felt her eyes lingering on him. "You still have a lot to learn, girl."

The fighting resumed, and Mei was instantly drawn into it. Kisame wielded a katana as he fended off Samehada. The demon sword quaked and made scraping noises when it clashed with Kisame's blade. It was a wonder Kisame's sword hadn't snapped in two under its obvious weight. But when she noticed his footing, it made sense. He wasn't taking the brunt of the blows, but deflecting them and maneuvering around them to eat up distance. Fuguki countered effortlessly, constantly repositioning himself in a performance that required the whole body, not just the arms and torso as Mei had always relied on in her own practice. Their feet did most of the work.

"Yes, Sensei," she said.

Kisame danced like he'd known this before he could walk, and all she could do was stare in awe. Only a monster could make death look so beautiful.

* * *

She got up early today to slip out of the house before her father woke. He tended to rise at dawn before reporting to Yagura's tower. Dressing quickly, Mei stole through the dark corridors past her father's room, where he was still snoring peacefully. Last time she'd left early, she'd made the mistake of sleeping in too late and encountered him at breakfast. In place of a standard 'good morning', he drilled her on the history of the Uchiha and Senju feud and its lingering effects on the today's political climate. By the time she made it out the door, she was late meeting Ganryū and he rewarded her with a severe session that left her bleeding and bruised.

Today, she would skip all of that as she dashed into the thick early morning mists and headed for one of the beach training grounds. She'd forgone her Chuunin vest and instead dressed in a simple gray tunic with a white sash and woven sandals. The tantō Ganryū had bequeathed to her on their first day of training was tucked into the sash at her hip. She hadn't bothered with breakfast or much morning grooming, as per her usual. Short hair had the benefit of never needing brushing. And with the mist so thick, she was half soaked by the time she reached the beach, anyway.

Brushing damp bangs from her eyes, Mei drew the tantō and began working on her footwork. She tried to picture Kisame opposite her, how he'd moved so fluidly in his training sessions. She never would have guessed it just looking at him, but the truth was plain to see. Ganryū was a talented swordsman, but Kisame was on another level. There was something innate about his movements, like the waves that know just when to break as they near the shore. Mei had never cared for the sword, but the desire to move like that, like the water itself, was hard to shake.

Waves lapped at her feet as she moved and drenched her bony legs in sea spray. It was refreshing as the sun rose higher on the horizon and dried up the mists. Sweat kept her from drying out as she slashed and twirled, finding rhythm with the waves. She was so caught up in herself that she failed to notice the footsteps until it was too late to escape them.

"Ew, what's _she _doin' here?"

"Oi, Fleabag, go find some other place to muck up!"

Mei whirled on the newcomers and tensed. It was some of the older boys from her Academy days. Like her, they were Chuunin now, too, and they looked even bigger now than they had growing up. Mei, on the other hand, was as small as ever compared to them. And outnumbered.

"Ya deaf or something? We said _move_."

There were two of them, and they were armed. She remembered them from all the times they'd dared to pick on her.

"Where's your other friend?" Mei asked. Then, feigning surprise, she added, "Oh, right. I killed him."

The boys bristled at her taunt, but they didn't advance. It was true, after all. She'd killed the third boy a few years ago with her Lava Release. His injuries had been too severe to save his leg, and amputation was not an option for ninjas in the Bloody Mist.

"Ugly bitch," one of the boys spat. "You're gonna pay for that someday, don't you forget it."

Mei tightened her grip on her weapon. Her back was to the sea. Not good. If they chose to attack her in unison, she would not escape without taking damage. But she could handle a little damage.

"Today's as good a day as ever." She brandished her tantō at them and licked her lips. "Maybe I'll kill you, too."

One of the boys advanced with a chokutō, and Mei released acid vapor from the sides of her mouth in warning. He faltered.

"C'mon, don't be such a pussy," his friend said.

But the boy hesitated.

"What's wrong? Afraid I'll burn you like I did to your friend?" Mei taunted.

He swallowed and backed away. "Whatever, freak. You dunno what they say about you." He grabbed his friend's arm and yanked him away.

Mei watched the two of them retreat back to shore, and her anger followed them. She sheathed her tantō when she realized her hand had been trembling. If they had attacked her, it could have been her to get burned in the end. They wouldn't have had to do much, either. Just take an arm and she would be deemed totally useless. She swallowed the poisonous mist she'd concocted and winced at the burn in her throat.

"It doesn't really matter what they say about you."

Mei jumped at the unknown voice so close by and drew her dagger again. A woman stood just a few yards away on the shoreline watching her. She was tall and slender and dressed in foreign shinobi attire, but she wore no hitai-ate. Mei planted her feet in a defensive stance.

"Who're you?"

The kunoichi ignored her. "If you want to know why, it's because what they say is always the same, no matter where you go or how old you are or where you're from. You can't change it."

Mei pursed her lips, unsure how to respond. "I asked you a question. You're obviously not from here."

The kunoichi smirked. "Unless, of course, you change what they perceive about you."

Mei said nothing to that, and the kunoichi chuckled lightly.

"Perception is everything," she said.

"I don't have time for this." Mei straightened her tunic and made to leave, and the kunoichi didn't try to stop her.

"I'm just visiting, you were right about that," she said as Mei passed her. "But I wouldn't expect less from a girl willing to stand up to enemies twice her size."

Mei paused and peered at the kunoichi. From this closer distance, her features were more discernible. Her hair was jet black and tied up, but she'd dyed the ends blonde to frame her tanned face. Her high defined cheekbones, big eyes, and the hint of a smirk at her full lips made her beauty obvious, but there was something off-putting about her. Mei couldn't figure out what, but it was something to recoil at.

"If you want, I can show you how to change that perception people have about you. Interested?"

She said it like it was an invitation to go to the fish market or take a walk. The urge to flinch was there, but curiosity had always gotten the better of Mei when she came up against the strange or the dangerous. This woman was dangerous. It was in her smile.

"Why would you wanna help me?" Mei said, wary.

The kunoichi grinned, and Mei shivered in fright. The look in her eyes was far away, leagues and lonely years beyond. "Let's just say I'm returning the favor."

Before Mei could question that logic (she hadn't done this woman any favors, she didn't even know her), she turned away and headed inland toward town.

"I'm Pakura, by the way," she called back. "Hurry up, I don't have all day."

Mei stood there stunned for a moment, briefly wondering what a kunoichi from another land could possibly want with her. Wondering what it was about this person that was so noxious, like the acid mist Mei had swallowed only minutes ago. Before she could register what was happening, she was already running after Pakura.

* * *

Pakura led Mei to the kind of establishment children in this town might hope to live long enough to frequent. The bar was no seedier than the average largely male-frequented locale, and at midday there were few patrons. Pakura ignored them and grabbed a table against the wall for the two of them.

"So, you have a name?" she asked.

"Mei Terumī."

Pakura waved the bartender down and ordered a drink for herself and grilled fish for Mei.

"I bet you haven't eaten all day. It takes time away from training," she said.

Mei could only wonder at this woman's prescience until the food arrived and she happily gorged herself. She ate with her fingers, so hungry she couldn't have been bothered with utensils. Pakura waited patiently for her to finish as she sipped a glass of whiskey.

Mei was suddenly aware of the difference between the two of them. Where she was sweat- and salt-stained from training, Pakura had a look of natural composure and presentation, like she rolled out of bed looking like that. Where Mei wore an old tunic inspired by the fish wives that inhabited the surrounding islands, Pakura was dressed in professional shinobi gear that revealed more skin than Mei would have thought necessary. All it was doing, in fact, was garnering lewd stares from the men at the bar. She shifted in her seat and sat on her hands, food finished and appetite sated.

"You've thought of something just now, haven't you?" Pakura laced her fingers together and leaned her chin forward upon them, expectant.

_It's like she can read my mind._

"They're staring."

Pakura didn't bother to look and confirm Mei's observation. She just smiled faintly. "Yes, I know. But you missed something."

"Huh?"

"They're staring, but not one of them has come over here. Do you know why?"

Mei glanced down at her cleaned plate. "Because I'm here."

Pakura said nothing for a moment as she studied the young girl across from her. "They say things about me, too, you know."

Mei looked up and took in Pakura's stunning appearance once more.

_No way._

"You don't believe me, do you?"

Mei blushed at having been caught. "How do you know what I'm thinking?"

Pakura laughed lightly. "It's not like I can read your mind. I've just been where you are now. I know what it's like, that's all."

The fright Mei had felt when Pakura had first revealed herself had not abated, but her curiosity had grown exponentially. Mei was no coward, besides. She leaned forward, embarrassment forgotten.

"What'd you mean when you said you'd help me?"

Pakura leaned her chin on one hand and lowered the other to the table. She drummed her nails over the wood. There was no dirt under them, and her hands were soft and unscarred, like Mei's.

_Dangerous._

"Just what I said. People see the world a certain way, like how those boys on the beach saw you. You're a spider, Mei Terumī, and they fancy themselves the boot that will crush you."

Mei set her jaw and put her hands on the table at the thought of those bullies that had tormented her for so long. "I can take them. They're losers."

"I believe you. But spiders don't let their rage show; they keep it hidden in shadows. They're patient. Those boys have it all wrong, you know."

"I'm not a spider, I'm a kunoichi."

"No, you're a spider, all right. So am I. See, spiders are sirens. They lure their prey with pretty songs and divine promises. And like flies caught in the web, they ensnare their targets and devour them whole."

"Devour..."

Pakura laughed again. "Not literally, of course. Here, let me ask you again. Why do you think none of those leering men at the bar has come over here?"

Mei's gaze drifted to the men still stealing glances at their table. They were talking amongst themselves, perhaps about trivial matters, or perhaps not. Perhaps they were talking about Pakura. A burly shinobi in a barstool gripped the back of his chair, white-knuckled. Another caressed his scotch like a precious gem. Mei didn't understand, but she had an idea.

"It's not because of me; it's because of you," she said.

Pakura smiled that curling smile that sent a spike of adrenaline down Mei's spine. She wondered how many had seen that smile and nothing else thereafter. "Buzzing flies know when the spider is about, but they just can't help themselves."

Mei studied the woman across from her, and her shoulders slumped a bit as she leaned her weight on her elbows. Her gaze fell and landed on her hands, soft but soiled, jagged fingernails, chapped from overexposure to salt. Pakura lay a hand over Mei's, and she realized she was trembling. Not with fear, but something else. Something that needed out.

"The greatest compliment you can receive from a man is to be told you're beautiful," Pakura said. "You're a very pretty girl, Mei."

Mei jutted out her lower lip and looked up. "I'm a sewer rat. That's what they call me 'cause it's true. I don't care. I don't care about any of them."

Pakura tightened her grip on Mei's hand, gentle but steadfast. "Like I said, it's all about perception. You're just projecting the wrong one, and you're missing out on the most powerful advantage we have over our male counterparts. There are so many of them, and so few of us. They're bigger, faster, stronger, and they occupy the highest positions of power. Your Mizukage is a very powerful man, for example."

Mei averted her gaze. It was all true, of course. Aside from Ameyuri, she was the only girl in her age group and the five years above and below to have survived the Academy.

"They're not stronger. I'm just as tough as they are," she said stubbornly.

"In terms of brute strength? Stamina? I'm afraid not. It's biology, not equality."

Kakashi had been faster. Kisame could last longer. Utakata was stronger, the strongest of them all.

"But we have something that can negate all of that, if the time and place are right. Listen to me."

Mei was listening. Pakura moved her hand to Mei's chin and lifted it just so. She turned her head left and right.

"So pretty. All you have to do is learn the value of beauty. You're a smart girl. You can see how I value my beauty, right?"

Mei nodded.

"You're too young now, but you won't be young forever. Just remember this: beauty is a fact, not an opinion. Taste is just a delusion. I'm not complimenting you, I'm showing you that I've noticed your greatest weapon. That's what it is, a _weapon_, and weapons must be sharpened if you want them to cut deep. Those men at the bar have been telling me the same thing all this time. They've revealed a weakness I can exploit, if I choose. What kind of fool enemy would do such a thing?"

Mei shook her head. "He wouldn't."

"And yet, he has. You can see it all around you. A beautiful woman is a dangerous woman. They're not stupid, they're just obvious. Remember this feeling. It'll save you one day."

Pakura paid for their order and escorted Mei outside. None of the men ever did approach her, but their eyes lingered as she left the bar. Mei bowed to her and thanked her for the food and the advice.

"You won't appreciate what I had to say today until you're older. But don't forget this. I didn't come here to waste my time."

"Yes, ma'am."

Pakura smiled that devastating smile as she turned to leave. "Goodbye, Mei."

She left and Mei was alone again. That night when she was home and after she'd recited her history lessons with her father, Mei stood in front of the brass mirror in her room and looked herself over. There was a smear of dirt on her cheek, a scab on her lip from training, and her hair was ratty and a little greasy from lack of washing. The dirt under her fingernails was ever-present, and her clothes were worn and salt-stained. She twirled some hair around a finger and stared at her reflection.

"_Beauty is a fact, not an opinion."_

Mei raked her fingers through her hair to smooth it out as she remembered Pakura's smile, an apocalyptic omen that had frozen her with one effortless look.

"Arm yourself because no one else here will save you," Mei recited to her reflection like a mantra.

"_A beautiful woman is a dangerous woman."_


	4. Little Girl

**Chimera, Chapter 4: Little Girl  
**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

"To Mangetsu Hozuki I bequeath Hiramekarei, the Ruin."

Mangetsu took a knee and bowed his head low. Two ANBU shinobi set a wide lacquered box before him, and Yagura stepped forward to open it.

"Rise."

Mangetsu rose and reached into the box. The sword within was broad and thicker around than he was. Its double-handled grip was wrapped in oiled leather, and the blade itself was concealed by white dressing. He lifted the sword out of its case with some effort, but he managed to stand up straight and twirl the blade around to a vertical position. He then bowed to Yagura again.

"I am eternally at your service, Lord Mizukage," he said.

Yagura's lavender eyes flashed, and he smirked. "Of course."

Mangetsu retreated from the center of the platform to join Zabuza, who had just received Kubikiribouchou, the Executioner. A large crowd of shinobi and political aids was gathered this morning to bear witness to the birth of a new generation of Seven Swordsmen. The existing members stood in a line next to their newest comrades. Mangetsu looked like a child next to them despite his nearly sixteen years.

"Finally, to Ameyuri Ringo I bequeath Kiba, the Fangs."

Mei watched from the crowd as Ameyuri took a knee and bowed low to Yagura. As with Mangetsu, two ANBU presented Ameyuri with a lacquered box, though it was far smaller than the one that had housed Hiramekarei. Ameyuri received two swords, twin blades that were long and thin. She raised them up and slashed the air before her, and they sparked with blue electricity.

"I am eternally at your service, Lord Mizukage," she said.

Despite herself, Mei couldn't help but grin at the display. It must have taken all of Ameyuri's willpower to maintain the air of respect and not falter. She went to join the other Swordsmen as the seventh member.

"My loyal subjects," Yagura said. "I give you the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist."

Thunderous applause erupted from the gathered onlookers. For fifteen years, Mei had watched her former teammates sweat and struggle and bleed, all for this day. They were now among the highest ranking shinobi in the country. Utakata clapped beside her and joined in the cheering. He was now an entire head taller than her.

"Hey, why aren't you cheering? Those two idiots actually did it!" he said.

Mei grinned and tucked her hair behind an ear. She'd started to grow it out since her meeting with Pakura three years ago, and now it was down to her waist and tied back in a ponytail.

"Did you doubt them?" she asked.

He flashed her a bright smile. "Nah, but I'm surprised Ameyuri didn't screw up the formalities."

While Ameyuri and Mangetsu had gone on to become Swordsmen, Mei and Utakata had to follow the more traditional path to Jōnin. They were due for exams in the next couple of weeks. Things were getting easier, unbelievably. The Academy sometimes seemed like a bad dream. Mei scanned the crowd for the hundredth time, but he was nowhere to be seen. They'd talked about going to the ceremony together, and it was something close to his heart, she knew. But Kisame wasn't here, and she couldn't find the energy to cheer for the friends that were.

"I saw him here earlier," Utakata said. The mirth was gone from his expression as he studied his oldest friend. "He slipped away while Yagura was giving his speech."

"Did you see where he went?"

Utakata hesitated a moment, but she held his gaze, unwavering. "South, I think. Listen, Mei, you don't have to—"

"I'll see you later."

She turned on her heel and weaved her way through the crowd. Mangetsu and Ameyuri wouldn't miss her until later tonight when they would celebrate together. Once through the crowd, Mei broke into a jog and headed south of the village. She passed through the fishermen's ward with its red paper lanterns, extinguished at this hour of the day. Stray cats meowed as they pawed at buckets full of chum. Civilians stepped out of her way as she went, careful to keep their eyes averted at the sight of her Chuunin vest, but they stopped to watch her back as she passed. They did that more and more the older she got, especially the men. There was no more dirt under her fingernails, no more tangles in her hair or grime on her face. Utakata had said nothing over the years, but even he looked at her a little differently, like he couldn't remember her at first.

Beyond the fishermen's ward lay the beach and training grounds. They were deserted at this time of day due to the inauguration ceremony, all except for one. He just sat at the edge of the sea with his bare feet in the water and his pants rolled up to the knee.

"Way to stand me up," Mei said as she approached.

"I never said I'd go with you, kid."

She crossed her arms and stood next to him. He watched the horizon, and her shadow darkened half his face.

"I'm not a kid, Kisame. I'm fifteen."

He glanced at her askance and gave her a quick once-over. Her legs were bare under fishnet and shorts, skinny, like her arms. The Chuunin vest was a bit bulky on her given the male-dominated sizing. No point in making a line for women when there hardly existed any to need them.

He snorted. "Yeah, you sure are."

Mei rolled her eyes and sat down in the sand next to him. She untied her sandals and dipped her toes in the lapping waves. The water was cold this time of year, but she prefered the chill.

"What're you doing out here, anyway?"

Kisame remained perfectly still aside from his steady breathing. Over the years, she and Ganryū had watched his spars with Fuguki, and Mei liked to think the observation had helped her improve her own technique a bit. Kisame had always been the type to keep to himself, but he even showed her glimpses of himself once in a while.

She'd learned that he was an orphan. No one knew where his family had come from or if there were others like him out there, or if they did they never said. Kisame didn't care one way or the other. He was here, and that was that. She'd learned that the gill markings on his cheeks were not gills at all, but tattoos he'd had for as long as he could remember. Perhaps the only thing that had survived his heritage. But he neither dispelled rumors nor encouraged them. He simply didn't care what others thought or didn't think, least of all her.

She'd learned that he liked crab. A lot. Once, after he finished training with Fuguki and Ganryū dismissed her for the night, they'd walked back into town just when the day's haul of shrimp, crab, and mollusks was coming in. The smells from stall fryers and roasters had been enough to crack his usual façade, and Mei bought him a whole roasted crab. They sat together on the docks cracking the legs apart and devouring the meat. He'd ended up eating two more by himself that night, and when she warned him that she'd found his weakness, he just shrugged.

"_It was bound to happen eventually."_

But for all the little things she'd learned, there were a million things she did not. Things she would never know, knowing him. She didn't really know him. To everyone, even her (especially her), he was the Monster of the Mist.

As if reading her thoughts, Kisame shifted and cracked his neck. "Watching the show."

Mei frowned and followed his line of sight to a boat anchored just offshore. A small group of young civilian men—fishermen, no doubt—were talking animatedly. One had stripped down to his shorts and looked ready to dive in.

"The fishermen?"

Kisame reached around back and grabbed her ponytail. He twisted her head around to the left.

"See that? It's a deserted island. But the civilians like their superstition, so they say it's where Ryujin lives. His palace under the sea."

Ryujin was said to be a god of the sea in the local mythology. Mei knew the story as well as the next girl, but she'd never cared for superstitions.

"You don't believe that," she said, nudging him so he would release her.

"Doesn't matter what I believe. They believe it, so it's real to them. The story goes that if you can swim to that island and dive down to the bottom, you'll reach Ryujin's palace." He chuckled. "Apparently, there's a virgin princess waiting at the bottom for the lucky bastard who can make the trip."

"How tempting."

"Sounds like a lot of effort and not enough of a payoff, if you ask me."

Mei laughed. "So that guy's going to try to make the trip? How do they know if he actually makes it to the bottom?"

"Because most people who try it end up drowning. If you live, that's proof enough that the gods're lookin' out for you."

In the distance, the young fisherman whooped and hollered as their comrade dove into the sea and began the journey. The waves were not high, but he moved slowly. Mei narrowed her eyes.

"There's a riptide in those waters," she said.

Kisame chuckled. "Well, if I were some undersea god with a hot daughter, I'd wanna lock my front door, too."

Mei watched the lonely fisherman struggle against the fierce underwater currents. Despite the exertion, however, he was making progress toward the island. She hugged her knees.

"If they die, why bother?" she asked.

"Most of 'em just go to the island and come back. It's a test of fortitude, courage, you know. You're not a 'real man' till you can make the trip. But the ones that try to go under never make it back. So they usually don't even try."

Mei smirked. "That poor virgin princess must be awfully lonely down there by herself."

Kisame grinned and revealed his sharp teeth. Mei bit her lip. "Guess so."

"How do you know all this? Have you done it?"

He shrugged, and his smile fell. "Nah. Civilians took me in when I was still a kid, before the Academy."

Mei faced him, shocked at the revelation. No shinobi ever came from civilian families in Mist. It was unheard of, even by adoption. "Why?"

As soon as she asked the question, she regretted it. He rubbed his hands together, and Mei followed the path of his fingers along tinted blue skin. Inhuman.

_Monster._

But his eyes danced with an inner laughter, and any sign of pain, real or imagined, was gone from his dark eyes. "Maybe they thought it'd be worse luck not to."

The fisherman that had embarked on his journey to the island reached his target and waved back to his companions. They cheered for him and promised much merriment upon his return. He started back to them, slowly but surely navigating the deadly undertows back to safety.

"Come celebrate with us tonight. Even Zabuza'll be there," Mei said.

They sat close enough to touch, but they didn't. Neither reached for the other as they continued to sit there at the edge of the ocean. The sun was slowly falling in the sky, too lazy to stay at its zenith.

"With a bunch of kids? I'll pass."

The fisherman finally made it back to his comrades and they pulled him aboard. He was too exhausted to stand, but they were happy to carry him and push a bottle of something in his face, laughing all the while. Mei laid a hand over Kisame's in the sand. Sea water drowned their entwined fingers, and she shivered.

"It won't be like this forever, you know. Your time will come," she said.

Kisame chuckled, and even now she couldn't detect a hint of bitterness or anger. Nothing at all. "I don't need you to tell me what I've known all my life, kid."

He rose suddenly, breaking the contact like it had never happened. Mei scrambled to her feet and watched him go.

"I'm not a kid," she called.

He waved to her but didn't turn back. Frigid water dripped from her hand where she'd held him, cold. The fishermen's cheers and laughter carried to the shore and followed Kisame's retreat back to wherever he came from.

* * *

'Celebration' was not the right word for it in the traditional sense. The group of shinobi that had gathered to commemorate Zabuza's, Mangetsu's, and Ameyuri's induction into the Seven Swordsman was about ten strong, and half the people there were people Mei had no interest in. She was here for her friends.

"I'd say congratulations, but this was always in the cards, anyway," she said as she pulled Mangetsu and Ameyuri into a group hug.

"For me, yeah," Ameyuri said, "but I _was_ a little worried for Water Boy over here for a minute."

Mangetsu barely reacted to Ameyuri's jab and just took a sip of his drink. They had a bonfire blazing on the beach tonight, and everyone milled around it with drinks in hand. A shinobi Mei recognized from the year above her manned the food and handed out plates of grilled fish and seaweed. Zabuza was conversing with Utakata, but Mei was too far away to hear what they were saying.

Ameyuri tugged on Mei's ponytail and gave her a weird look. "Doesn't all that hair get in the way?"

Mei grinned. "Not when all I have to do is stand still and look good to beat my enemies."

Mangetsu choked on his drink and Ameyuri guffawed loudly. "You lazy bitch. Some of us actually have to move our asses to win."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Ameyuri laughed some more and slugged Mei in the shoulder lightly. "So it really doesn't bother you?"

"Consider it part of my strategy." She ran her fingers through one of Ameyuri's short, red pigtails. "Maybe you should try it sometime. You'd look great with longer hair."

"What kind of strategy is that?" Mangetsu asked.

Ameyuri and Mei made eye contact, and it was their undoing as they burst out laughing. Mangetsu slumped his shoulders a little and sipped his drink some more.

"This is dumb," he grumbled, searching for more understanding company. "Kisame."

Mei stopped laughing and turned to see Kisame approaching. His katana was strapped to his back, as usual, and he caught her stare. Mangetsu weaved in between Mei and Ameyuri to get to him as though his life depended on it. Kisame nodded to Mangetsu and they struck up a conversation, something a little more serious and familiar than the allure of women's hair, by the looks of it. Ameyuri shoved Mei with an elbow.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," she said.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Ameyuri rolled her eyes and snagged a plate of grilled fish. She grabbed a hunk of meat with her fingers and stuffed it in her mouth while nudging the plate toward Mei, who accepted and ate from it without a fuss.

"I bet he's real pissed about not making the cut," Ameyuri said.

"It's not that he didn't make the cut. You know that."

Ameyuri put a hand up. "Yeah, whatever. But you know the only way to take a spot is when a current member dies. I'm surprised he didn't already make a move."

"What're you talking about?" Mei said as she licked the grease from her thumb.

Ameyuri gave her a pointed look. "You know what I mean."

"Well, it's stupid. The Seven Swordsmen are the elite of the elite. It'd be suicide to challenge one of them."

"What's your point?"

Mei looked back at Kisame, thoughtful. The Bloody Mist had a reputation for unwarranted violence, no doubt about it. But there were rules even here. Ameyuri liked the fight, loved it, but people didn't survive on bloodlust, they only died from it. Yagura knew that well enough, if nothing else. Kisame was no fool.

"His time will come," Mei said. "I know it will."

"Now _that_ I believe."

Mangetsu broke away from Kisame at that moment and returned to the girls. "I gotta go."

"Where? Everyone who can stand you's right here," Ameyuri shot back.

"It's my brother. I mean, I have a brother."

"Huh?"

Mei smiled. "He was born tonight? That's great news."

"Yeah, Kisame just came from there and told me. That's why he's here."

Sure enough, when Mei turned to look Kisame was already gone. "I didn't know he was close to your family."

Mangetsu shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I'll see you guys later."

He left Mei and Ameyuri wondering about this mysterious new piece of information.

"Do you even know anything about Kisame?" Ameyuri asked.

"_Maybe they thought it'd be worse luck not to."_

Mei shook her head. "No. I really don't."

"Well anyway, c'mon, let's go meet Juicebox, Jr. Nothin' else to do."

Mei nodded, and they followed Mangetsu back into town.

* * *

Yagura was in his office enjoying a glass of aged scotch. Scrolls were opened and in disarray across his desk. They detailed battle plans and formations passed down to him from his predecessors, as well as newer ones his most savvy generals had concocted in their prime. But it was all fluff, superfluous drivel in the face of what needed to be done. What he had in mind would require a team that could go unnoticed, not an army marching to drums that would announce their presence.

"I want it done quietly, Ao," he said. "I assume you understand what's at stake."

Ao stood in the shadows opposite the wide window. An eye patch covered his right eye, and he stood with his arms folded behind his back. He was a severe man just past his prime by Mist's standards, but he was the best for this job.

"A kidnapping won't be so easy in the midst of war," he said. "Konoha and Iwa are fighting in the Fire Country. That's where she'll be."

Yagura cracked his knuckles one by one, slowly so the sound echoed in the spacious office. "I'm not sending you because I think it'll be easy."

Ao set his jaw and forced himself to remain perfectly still. Yagura was a small man, but to anger him was to invite a fate worse than death. Outside, red lanterns lit up the dark night like bloody stars. In the distance, a bonfire burned on the beach. A celebration, perhaps. Yagura downed the rest of his scotch and set the glass on the sill. His pale eyes burned with the image of that celebratory fire.

"To call my predecessor incompetent would be far too conciliatory," Yagura said. "But now I find myself having to clean up his mess. Sealing Isobu's Yang chakra in a pot made it child's play to steal. He should have trusted me with all of it from the beginning. Craven fool."

Again, Ao said nothing.

"Now we've basically handed Konoha a new Jinchuuriki to do with as they please. I don't care about the culprit—just bring me the girl."

Ao cleared his throat. "My team will retrieve her alive. Konoha will be too distracted by the war efforts to stop us."

Yagura shot him a glance over his shoulder, and Ao stiffened. "Dead or alive, I don't care. As long as you move quickly, we can extract the beast from her and return it to where it was always meant to be—with me. Do not fail me in this, Ao. I would _hate _to lose my best Hunter to Konoha filth."

Ao bowed low. "Yes, sir."

Yagura refilled his scotch once Ao had excused himself. He returned to the window to gaze at the red lanterns and the bonfire in the distance. There were no stars tonight thanks to the thickening fog, only people and their imitations. Ghost lights. Somewhere deep in his memory, something stirred awake.

"Soon," he said. "Very soon."

* * *

Mangetsu, Ameyuri, and Utakata waited in silence in the colosseum's lobby for Mei to emerge. Mei and Utakata had both passed their written examinations, and now all that was left was the physical examination. Utakata had passed, unsurprisingly, and Mei was the last to go.

"She's taking for_ever_," Ameyuri complained.

"It's an exam. It's not her fault," Mangetsu said.

Utakata stretched his arms over his head. "Whatever, she'll pass. Don't worry so much, Ameyuri."

Ameyuri grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down to her eye level. "Who the fuck says I'm worried? I don't worry for no one!"

Utakata blinked in surprise at her manhandling. "Uh..."

Mangetsu removed Hiramekarei from his back and set it on the floor. Its weight caused a slight tremor and startled Ameyuri from her attempt at intimidation. "Just shut up, already. You're giving me a headache."

"Oh, well ex_cuse me_ for wondering how our _friend_ is doing!"

Utakata and Mangetsu exchanged a look while Ameyuri just scowled and began to pace.

"So, did you use it for your test?" Mangetsu asked.

Utakata frowned. "Use what?"

"You know."

Ameyuri continued to pace and grumble to herself under her breath. There had always been a kind of distance between Utakata and Mei's friends. They were _her_ friends, not his. He'd always known this. He wondered when they would confront him about his...condition. It was only a matter of time, of course, just as all things.

"Saiken's not a sword I can just use and put away whenever I feel like it."

Mangetsu's stare gave nothing away of his thoughts. He was the kind of guy that saw everything but chose not to comment simply because he didn't care. But that didn't mean he didn't notice.

"Then what good is having it?"

_Nothing._

"_Liar," _echoed the Other hiding in the cobwebs in his head.

Utakata flashed a bright smile. "It's hard to explain."

"Try me."

Utakata's smile faltered, but Mangetsu just stared back at him in his impassive way, patient.

"What's it like?" Mangetsu pressed.

Ameyuri was banging on the door to the colosseum now and shouting for the proctor.

"It's something I keep so the rest of you don't have to," Utakata said.

"_Liiiiiiiiiiaaaaarrrrrrr!"_

Utakata growled and rubbed his ear with the heel of his hand, like that would do any good. He looked at his feet, withdrawing into himself to a dark noxious place.

_They don't have to know that._

The laughter in his head reverberated like the tail end of a dream upon waking, touching everything within. A hand on Utakata's shoulder startled him back to reality. Violet eyes peered up at him, curious.

"Where do you go?" Mangetsu asked.

It was quite hot in here. The new standard issue grey Jōnin vest was doing Utakata no favors. "You don't want to know."

"Hey! I said open up, you shit geezer! You got any idea who I am? Huh?!"

Ameyuri pounded on the door again.

"Maybe we should restrain her," Utakata said, hoping Mangetsu would drop it.

He did drop it. "It's not worth the effort, trust me."

Finally, the door opened and Mei emerged looking worse for wear, but she wore a brand new grey Jōnin vest that actually fit her. Utakata lit up at the sight of her, blood and bruises and all.

"About damn time!" Ameyuri grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her toward the group. "You sure like to take your sweet-ass time, Lava Girl."

Mei wiped some blood from her mouth and smiled. "You _better_ wait for me."

"Che, dumbass."

Mei laughed with Ameyuri and leaned on her for support.

"So you passed, obviously," Mangetsu said. "Congratulations."

"Was there ever any doubt?" Utakata said with a smile.

"No way," Mei said.

"All right, so it's time to celebrate!" Ameyuri grabbed Mangetsu by the back of the neck and Mei reached for Utakata.

The four of them stumbled outside in a line that would have blocked anyone from trying to get inside. But as soon as they arrived outside, a Chuunin messenger was already waiting for them.

"Mei Terumī?" he said from behind a thick gas mask that covered his entire face.

Utakata squeezed Mei's hand in warning, but she slipped away. "That's me. Is something wrong?"

The Chuunin approached and handed her a message scroll small enough to be carried by falcon. He then bowed low and left. Mei unraveled the scroll and read it in silence.

"What's up?" Ameyuri asked. She tried to peer over Mei's shoulder at the note.

"Mei?" Utakata asked.

Mangetsu said nothing as he merely watched, expressionless. But when Mei swayed and nearly lost her balance, he flickered to her side and held up her arm to steady her.

"Hey, what is it?" Utakata tried to see what she was reading, but it was coded.

"Yeah, what gives?" Ameyuri said.

Mei just stared at the paper in her hands, which had begun to shake. Mangetsu squeezed her elbow.

"How bad is it?" he asked softly.

Mei finally looked up at him, then to Utakata. "It's Ganryū. He was in an accident."

"Your sensei?" Ameyuri walked around to the front of the group. "Shit, did he get knocked?"

Mei shook her head. "No, it's worse." She folded up the scroll and stuffed it in a pocket in her brand new vest. Then she pulled away from the group and showed them her back. "His team was ambushed at Yosuga Pass. They got his whole team."

No one said a word. Mei sniffled, but when she spoke next her voice was hard. "I have to go see him. I'll catch up with you guys later." She took off before anyone could put up a protest, though no one would have dared.

"That sucks," Ameyuri said. "His whole team."

Utakata and Mangetsu said nothing.

"The war's really getting outta control," Ameyuri added. "Wonder if we'll get any of the action soon."

"If we do, I pity the guys on the other side," Utakata said.

Mangetsu shot him a look, but Utakata took off in the direction opposite that which Mei had gone without another word. He'd promised his own sensei, Harusame, that he would report as soon as he passed the Jōnin exam. They were to celebrate his promotion. It was supposed to be a happy event.

As he walked away, he could feel Mangetsu's eyes on his back, eyes like so many he'd fallen under in all his life. But these weren't accusatory or fearful—they were full of pity. And that, he decided as he picked up speed to put more distance between them, was so much worse.

* * *

Her hand was sweaty and sticky in his, but his grip was desperate enough to hold onto her and drag her forward. Rin stumbled over a rock and cried out as she disturbed the many wounds she already bore. Kakashi skidded and caught her as she fell.

"We have to keep going," he said, hauling her up.

"Yeah, I know," Rin panted.

They took off at a sprint again through the tunnels. Moonlight shone up ahead and marked their exit. Kakashi could have sighed in relief. There was no sound of pursuit from Rin's kidnappers, but that didn't mean they weren't aware of the breakout. Mist was known for its Hunters, shinobi who specialized in tracking and killing off enemies of the state. Kakashi suspected it was those shinobi who hunted them now.

They burst outside into the forest. Above, the moon was full and pale, and it robbed them of the cover of night. He needed to get to the trees, put some distance between here and there before it was too late.

"Kakashi!"

Rin broke their contact and whirled, having sensed something he didn't. Kakashi stayed low and rubbed his new Sharingan eye, which was still sore from the surgery Rin had performed on him only days ago. The eye Obito had bequeathed to him as a present for making Jōnin, and the last words he would ever speak. Kakashi blinked the memory away. War, as it would seem, was no time to dwell on the deaths of loved ones.

The Sharingan revealed what Rin had sensed earlier. Shinobi, two squads, had them surrounded on all sides. Their chakra glowed like sun flares through the lens of the Sharingan, and Kakashi could even see the flow and amplification of energy as they channeled chakra in preparation to attack.

"There's too many of them," Rin whispered between labored breaths.

"I'll handle it," Kakashi said.

He powered up Chidori, his newest technique, and the light saturated the night. The Sharingan picked out his targets, who were already converging. Kakashi ran toward the nearest one and lunged with Chidori. It clashed with a devastating water jutsu, but the effect amplified Chidori's thunder, and the enemy was thrown back several feet, never to rise again.

Nearby, Rin was attacking an enemy using her deadly chakra scalpels despite her many injuries. Kakashi rushed to help her, but the enemy's number was too great to ignore. They came from all sides, and Kakashi was forced to abandon his rescue mission to deal with them. A burly shinobi landed a mean punch to Kakashi's face out of nowhere, and he saw stars. He also got a good look at the enemy's hitai-ate: Mist. But they were never involved in this savage war with Iwa before this, so why now? There was no time to dwell on the thought as the attacks kept coming. Someone hit his back and supported him from behind.

"Rin, you have to get out of here. You can't do much with your injuries," he said as they circled, back to back.

She tensed behind him. "They're here for me. Just me."

"It's war."

"No, you don't understand." Her voice hitched. "They're not here to kill me, they're here to take me away."

"What're you talking about?"

A powerful Doton technique split the earth and forced them apart. Kakashi jumped to safety and looked around for Rin. Her wounds had made her slow, and the jutsu had caught her. Her left leg was buried under a thick slab of rock, and she struggled to pull free. Kakashi swore and rushed to her aid. There was no way he would let her die. No way he would break his promise to Obito.

A Mist nin ran toward Rin while executing a complicated and long string of hand seals. Kakashi followed them with his Sharingan eye, unwittingly committing them to memory. On instinct, he mimicked the seals. Nearby, the Naka river bubbled with chakra as the enemy shinobi's jutsu took the shape of a great water dragon. It roared to life and headed straight for Rin, but it never made it. Another water dragon collided with it just before it could make contact, and the two beasts exploded in a deluge that soaked everyone and everything in the vicinity, including Kakashi. His hands shook at what he'd done.

"Who are you?"

A man around Minato's age materialized a few yards away from Kakashi. Unlike his teammates, he wore no Hunter's mask, but his right eye was covered by a black patch. Kakashi met his gaze and gasped, easily able to see through the barrier with Obito's Sharingan.

"The Byakugan," he said, incredulous.

Bright chakra congregated around the eyepatch, probably seeing a mirror reflection of itself in Kakashi's Sharingan. The Mist nin remained expressionless as he continued to stare down Kakashi.

"The Suiryūdan is a secret technique native to the Hidden Mist, but you replicated it effortlessly. What did you do?" the Mist Hunter demanded. "Did you copy it somehow?"

Kakashi's left hand twitched. This guy had to be the leader of the attacking Mist nin. Taking him out could put an end to this in one blow. Electrified chakra rushed to his fingertips and began to crackle like the sound of a thousand chirping birds.

"I'm not here to talk to you," he said, crouching and preparing to lunge.

The Mist nin's gaze darkened dangerously. "However you did it, you won't be doing it ever again."

Kakashi was done talking. Electricity jumped all over his body and fried the condensation on his skin and hair from the Suiryūdan attacks. He took off at full tilt toward the enemy, ready to end this nightmare and do something right for a change. He couldn't save Obito, but he could at least save her.

"Rin!"

She came out of nowhere, so fast (could she always move so fast?). Even his borrowed Sharingan hadn't seen her coming, so focused on the kill when he should have been looking out for the one thing that really mattered. Wide brown eyes stared back at him through glistening tears. This close, he could make out the cracks in her lips and the smudges on her face. There were flecks of gold in her eyes, and he wondered if Obito had known that about her.

She choked, and the spell was broken. Her small hands gripped his arm and held him in place—clean through her. Kakashi's breaths came in short, too short to fill his lungs and he started to see double. The enemy Mist nin around them had stopped whatever they were doing to look on, just as stunned as he was.

When she smiled, blood fell from her lips and stained her chin. "Kakashi..."

Sparks danced between them, and all he could think about was the gold in her eyes. So pretty, so young, so adored by all who knew her. Such a nice little girl.

"_Those who abandon their teammates are worse than trash," _Obito's insult rang clear in his memory.

Kakashi heaved and bile rose in his throat. He lost control of his legs and they toppled to the ground together. He vomited on the damp grass as Rin fell away from his impaling arm and collapsed. The Sharingan throbbed in pain, like a small demon with a mind of its own clawing to get free. He rubbed it with the heel of his hand, willing it all to stop.

_Just stop._

A desperate wail excruciating enough to wake the dead was the last thing he heard before he blacked out, and the bodies fell all around him.

* * *

Mei rushed to the Mist General Hospital as fast as her legs could carry her, which was not very fast after the brutality of the Jōnin exams she'd just passed. She burst through the front doors and grabbed the nearest employee she could find to ask after Ganryū. Within minutes, she'd located his room and was at his bedside.

"Sensei," she said as she leaned over him.

He was badly beaten and heavily bandaged. His right eye was completely obscured by gauze, and blood had already started to stain through his wrappings. The whitewashed walls made his pain stick out even more. He didn't belong here.

"I'm not your sensei anymore," he rasped.

With a hand, he fumbled around for the control button to sit upright. Mei found it for him and raised the back of his bed so he could better see her.

"What happened?" she asked.

He eyed her askance and forced a grin. "I see you made Jōnin. About time."

Mei clenched her fists. "Worry about yourself. Are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

He averted his gaze, and Mei was suddenly struck by how old and haggard he looked. He'd always seemed so old to Mei as an authority figure despite being in his prime, but he was also invincible in her memory. Untouchable. Now he couldn't even defecate without a nurse there to clean him up afterwards.

He coughed, and Mei resisted the urge to lay a hand over his head. He would not have appreciated her pity. "My team was dispatched to retrieve intel from Cloud. Yagura wanted it done quietly. You know we're staying out of this ludicrous war with Konoha."

Mei nodded but said nothing.

"Iwa sent a team to assist us as part of our wartime treaty, but once we'd gotten what we came for—"

A coughing fit cut him off from his explanation, and this time Mei did reach for him. He swatted her hand away as though it burned, and she flushed in anger at her weakness.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Please, tell me what went wrong."

He calmed down and took a sip from the straw someone had set up for his use. It connected to a water bottle on the bedside table. Seconds turned to minutes as he just sat there, gaze far away, remembering. When he spoke again, it was soft and hollow, like an old recording devoid of feeling or memory.

"The Iwa team turned on us. Stole the intel. They caught us by surprise, and Junsai was the first to go down."

Mei said nothing. She knew Junsai from the times he and Suiren would visit during her training session with Ganryū over the years. He would always heal her, even if she only suffered minor surface abrasions. He was nice like that. And she'd never once seen him without a smile on his face.

"It was my fault. I reacted too slowly. Should've known they'd double cross us. I fucked up, and Suiren, she..."

Mei's throat clenched in anticipation of the words she was sure would follow, though he couldn't seem to get them out. They were right there, but speaking them would make them real. He couldn't even look at her.

"She sacrificed herself for me," Ganryū said finally. "Just threw herself in the line of fire like a goddamned novice." He clenched his bandaged hand, and blood seeped through and between the wrappings. "It should've been me."

"It wasn't your fault. She was just doing what she thought was right."

Ganryū turned his heavy accusatory stare on Mei, and she recoiled at the wild anger there. "She was a grown woman. A smart woman trained in the Bloody Mist. Only little girls do what they think is 'right' without thinking of everyone else. Suiren was never so selfish."

"She saved your life," Mei said. "There's good in that. I know so."

He chuckled bitterly. "You're still a child. You wouldn't understand. As a leader, to lose a teammate... To lose the person closest to you by their own hand is the ultimate failure."

Mei's hands shook with a rage that had come out of nowhere. "Suiren wouldn't want you to sulk like this."

"No, she'd want me to avenge her. Iwa _will_ pay for this, I swear it on my life."

Seeing him like this, so broken and bitter, deflated every ounce of anger she had. There was an emptiness here in this room, around him, something that had been taken from him and would never come back. She couldn't understand it now, as he said, but she could mourn its loss. The only time they'd made physical contact was to attack each other. That was what teachers were for, to knock you down and wait until you got back up. But now, she reached for him and simply let her hand rest over his forehead. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she wouldn't disrespect him further by crying for him.

"I'm glad you're back safely," she said, unable to look him in the eye as she said it.

She left him then and didn't look back, afraid of the contempt she would find in that dark eye that had watched the woman he loved most in this world decide both their fates for him. Outside the hospital, the sun was already setting and Mei knew her father would be expecting her for dinner and their usual history lesson. But home was the last place she wanted to be right now.

She ran through the fishermen's ward. Her sandals clacked loudly against the cobblestone streets. The night mists were encroaching slowly, and the district's signature red lanterns were burning to life the darker it got. She made it to the beach where she'd found Kisame the day of the Seven Swordsmen's inauguration ceremony some weeks ago, though it was deserted now. The ocean was dark, but she could just picture the fisherman that had braved the riptides to prove his mettle, all for a silly superstition.

Mei unzipped her brand new Jōnin vest and threw it on the sand. The tantō she always carried was soon to follow along with her sandals. Clad only in a blue tunic and thick, white sash, she waded into the sea and dove under the waves. The water was cold enough to make her want to scream, but the bubbles muffled her cry. She beat her arms against the current and swam out to sea toward the deserted island fabled to house a god.

At first, the swim was relatively uneventful. Growing up in Mist, she could swim for as long as she could walk, like all children. But as soon as she got about fifty feet out from the shore, the tides changed. Underwater winds tugged at her legs and tried with all their might to pull her under. On the surface, the waves smacked her in the face and attempted to push her back. But she fought with everything she had against the opposing forces to stay upright.

The water was a demon trying to swallow her whole, of this Mei was certain. How could mere civilians conquer it? How could they survive it when all it did was take and take and take? She broke the surface and sucked in a breath of air, but before she could fill her lungs a wave crashed against her. Saltwater filled her mouth and throat, and she would have gagged had she not had the sense to clamp her mouth shut.

_I can't do this._

Mei clawed her way to the surface against the relentless riptide. Without thinking, her chakra came to her aid and helped her float. When she pawed at the surface, her hands didn't sink. Below, the dark tides roared for her blood, but magic kept her out of reach. Black magic. Monstrous.

"_We're all monsters."_

The waves carried her back to shore, and she lay prostrate on the sand. She hadn't made it even halfway to the island. Her lungs screamed for air, never satisfied with the full fast gulps she sucked in. The waves, gentle once again, flooded her with every heartbeat. Above, only the brightest stars shone through the fog, so far away, and she just a little girl again alone in the dark.

* * *

A little girl, dead to the world and all those in it, lay prostrate and looked up at Yagura from the floor of his office with glassy unseeing eyes.

"You're late," Yagura said.

Ao, who was soiled with dried mud and blood, remained kneeling with his head down. "Forgive me, my lord. We encountered some difficulty."

"The team?"

"Dead."

Yagura paced to his desk and pressed a button on a dial. It emitted no sound. Returning his attention to Ao and his prize, he said, "Tell me what happened."

"She killed herself. Probably thought it could keep us from extracting the beast."

"Not her, imbecile. I meant your team. Surely one little girl couldn't wipe out a team of your best Hunters."

Ao stiffened. "No, sir."

Yagura kneeled down across from Ao. Rin's mangled body lay in between them.

"Tell me," Yagura demanded.

"There was an Uchiha. He came out of nowhere, overpowered us."

Yagura scoffed. "You've fought the Uchiha before. Shisui, was it? I don't remember him slaughtering an entire team of Hunters. Are you _sure_ you didn't just fail me?"

Ao swallowed. "There was only one, but he was different somehow. His power...it wasn't like anything I've ever seen before. He could pull grown men to him like gravity and make them disappear into thin air. I grabbed the girl's body and escaped."

Yagura eyed him carefully for a moment. "You did the right thing. This is far more important than the deaths of a few Hunters."

Ao said nothing to that.

Yagura ran a finger over Rin's jaw line. "What a lovely little girl."

There was a knock on the door, and three people entered the Mizukage's office carrying yellowed scrolls and an intricately decorated clay pot. Yagura rose to greet them.

"That won't be necessary," he said, indicating the pot.

"We need a place to put it, Lord Yagura," said the lone woman of the group, an ancient woman with leathery skin burned brown from years spent working under the merciless sun.

"I have a place already in mind. The rightful place," Yagura said.

The three elderly shinobi exchanged looks, but nothing further was said. Ao stepped back to give them room.

"My lord, may I be excused?" he asked.

"No."

The elderly shinobi gathered around Yagura and Rin's body. The old woman kneeled over Rin and began to chant under her breath in a language Ao could not understand. The other two circled Yagura, also chanting. They carried small bowls with them into which they dipped their fingers and painted purple lines over Yagura's face and skin. The woman painted similar lines over Rin's corpse.

The air became hot, too hot to breathe comfortably, and Ao felt sick. He stumbled backward toward the door and fumbled for the doorknob, but failed to find it in time. A bright green light erupted from Rin's chest and grew into the shape of..._something. _Claws, arms that were too long, and an armored head that cracked open its maw in a deafening roar. All in shadows.

Yagura bared his teeth in a wide smile and reached for the sentient light. The markings the elders had drawn on him glowed bright purple, calling to the beast that had awakened. Before Ao's eyes, Yagura's flesh melted from his hands and arms to reveal bleeding tissue teeming with red chakra, alive of its own accord. And he laughed. Ao sank to the floor and shook, wishing for darkness.


	5. Guardian

**Chimera, Chapter 5: Guardian  
**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

Winter in the badlands of Water Country turned its infamous mists to frost, which if continuously inhaled for extended periods of time left microscopic incisions in the lungs and drowned its victims in their own blood in a matter of hours. Zabuza Momochi had grown up in the outlands among the hills, and he was no stranger to the winter frosts or its dangers. The thick mask covering his face made him impervious to winter's bane. His breath misted through the mask, the only sign of life in this barren wasteland.

His team had gone on ahead to the small civilian settlement at the base of the hill upon which Zabuza currently stood. Kubikiribouchou was strapped to his back, a friendly reminder of the job he was here to do. The screams started soon after. Ravenous and desperate, that was the Bloody Mist's way. Zabuza cracked his neck and headed for the village.

A body burst from the window of the closest dwelling, and he didn't think much of it until he saw the Mist hitai-ate. One of his teammates was bleeding out on the snow. Zabuza drew Kubikiribouchou from his back without a second thought and burst through the door. He cut down the first person he saw: an old woman. She grunted and hit the floor, where a handful of senbon rolled out of her clenched fist.

Zabuza scanned the earth-packed cabin for more signs of rebellious life. A door swung lightly on its hinges toward the back of the room. He drew a silent breath and went through it. On the other side, he didn't even have time to think as a talented hand threw senbon at him with deadly intent. Kubikiribouchou maneuvered in front to protect him and the thin needles jettisoned off its wide blade, leaving little blue sparks on contact.

He moved like water, filling spaces as they opened up and drowning them in his presence. And Kubikiribouchou moved with him, the crest of a wave crashing down on the one unlucky enough to be caught battling the rip tide. A woman fell before him, young and lithe but not quite fast enough. The blade had sliced through the juncture of her neck and shoulder and cut through to the opposite armpit. Zabuza was already stepping over her before she could settle on the floor in a puddle of her frozen blood.

A man's cry of agony burst from beyond the left wall, but there was no door. Zabuza rammed the flat of Kubikiribouchou, still slick with the dead woman's blood, into the wall. The brittle wood splintered and burst until there was a hole big enough for Zabuza to step through. He found himself in a hidden room of the house with only a single trap door open on the ceiling. It creaked on its hinges and let in the arctic chill. In the middle of the floor lay one of his men, Shu, convulsing as death's seizure sapped the last dregs of life from him. An icicle, thicker around than Zabuza's forearm, was impaled through his abdomen.

Another's breathing slowly drew his attention to the far corner of the room where a little boy, still plump with his baby fat, was crouched with his hands out and shaking. They were crusted with ice. Silence stretched for a long moment as Zabuza and the boy sized each other up. Zabuza let his gaze fall back to Shu and the saber-like icicle that had been his undoing. He shifted, and the little boy lashed out. A thick bolt of hardened ice materialized from one of his hands and crashed into Kubikiribouchou, where it shattered on contact. Pieces of ice scattered to the floor, coated in the blood of the woman Zabuza had mangled just minutes ago. And there was silence once again.

The little boy finally cracked, and tears welled in his eyes at the sight of the blood on Zabuza's sword. "Mother?" He wore no mask despite the deadly winter condition.

Zabuza narrowed his eyes. "She's dead, boy. I killed her. Your grandmother, too."

The little boy shook with fear and grief, his round black eyes misty with tears that froze on his cheeks as they formed. And yet, he seemed more concerned with Zabuza than the killing cold.

"Then, kill me, too," he whimpered.

The boy could not have been older than five or six years, and yet he asked for death so easily.

"Why?" Zabuza asked.

The boy recoiled, as though finally sensing the gravity of his situation. He sank to his knees, and frost accumulated beneath him. "I... I don't wanna be alone."

Depraved and ruthless as it was, the Bloody Mist was all about procedure. Killings were scheduled and acted out by trained players. Politics were a courtesy that exercised the broadest extents of flattery, wit, and charm, but never objection. The Academy Harvest was no different. Every year, Mist shinobi would sweep parts of the countryside in the outlying islands of Water Country and search for young green boys and girls with the potential to serve under the Bloody Mist. Other villages thought the practice barbaric, of course. What was the sense in killing all but one when there is strength in numbers?

"_What's the point of keeping them all when one alone will suffice?" _

But no matter Zabuza's personal opinion on Yagura's so-called politics, his words echoed louder in this small shoddy cabin than they ever had before. Zabuza slowly sank to one knee next to an upright Kubikiribouchou, his eyes ever on the little boy trembling before him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

There were no shouts from reinforcements, no cavalry. Just the ice and snow and deadly frost crystals in the wind that could not reach this small child. The boy blinked a few times, and fresh tears fell from his eyes only to freeze upon his cheeks.

"Haku," he said.

"_It only takes one card to send the whole house falling."_

Yagura had promised him a position in the Seven Swordsmen the day Zabuza had said that to him. He could still remember the way Yagura smiled at him, curling, like the ends of paper as they burn and fade to black under candlefire.

"_Not _my_ house," _Yagura had said confidently.

The little boy wiped his frosted tears from his cheeks, but his eyes never left Zabuza's. Wary, afraid. Dangerous.

_It only takes one._

Zabuza held out his free hand to Haku. "You're not alone, Haku."

Yagura would never have this one.

* * *

"You're leaving again?"

"Yeah, boss's orders."

Mei crossed her arms. "Harusame's a slave driver, let me tell you."

Utakata laughed. "He's fine. He just trusts me with the responsibility, that's all. Besides, I like getting out of the village. It's livelier out there."

"Livelier? It's the middle of winter. Everything's dead."

He laughed again, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Nah, you got it backwards."

Mei bit the inside of her cheek and held her tongue. No need to ruin a perfectly sad and rushed goodbye with a reminder of the silence that stalked the village streets like a plague.

"But you _just _got back!"

Utakata put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to her eye level. "And I'll be back just as quick. So you hold down the fort while I'm gone. Don't let Ameyuri burn anything down."

Mei cracked a smile. "She's never cooking again, you have my word."

"At least not in _my_ house."

He was smiling for real now, and Mei pulled him into a tight hug before he could get any stupid ideas like leaving without one.

"Hey, cool it! People'll talk, you know?" he teased.

"Oh, so being sixteen and having a guy for a best friend automatically means we're hooking up? How charming."

He winced. "You didn't have to say it like that."

Mei rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself. I'm way out of your league."

"Well, I can't argue with you there."

They watched each other for a moment in silence, remembering. Every parting could be the last, as many shinobi had learned before them. "Just be careful, okay? You of all people, Utakata."

He waved her off. "Yes, _Mom_. I'll be a good Jinchuuriki and be home before bedtime." He showed her his back, which was emblazoned with the Mist symbol on the back of his Jōnin vest. "I'll see you."

She watched him as he left to join his master, Harusame, at the village gates, and together they secured masks to shield their faces and took off into the fog. Mei shivered despite the layers of wool she wore. Winters in Water Country were among the nastiest on the continent due to the humidity. At least there was no wind today. Small mercies.

Not wanting to shiver out here any longer than necessary, Mei headed back toward Mangetsu's place, where they and Ameyuri were congregating for dinner. His parents were away on a mission that had been extended due to extenuating circumstances, so Mangetsu had had to take time off from his duties as one of the Seven Swordsmen to look after his baby brother, who was still an infant and totally useless in every possible way.

"Honestly, this kid is the most useless sack of shit I ever saw," Ameyuri said unhelpfully.

"Three-year-olds are more than just their fecal content," Mangetsu said from the kitchen as he searched for the right pot big enough to boil stew.

The living room was attached to the kitchen and offered a view between both rooms. Ameyuri sat on a couch, where she held up baby Suigetsu by the ankle and stared deeply into his big violet eyes. Suigetsu didn't cry or pout, but merely watched her back. As she spoke, his gaze was drawn to her filed teeth, and he reached for them.

Ameyuri chomped down and scared off his wandering hand. "Yeah, I see what you're tryna do, chump. Don't even _think _about it."

Mei finished setting up Suigetsu's baby stool at the table and joined Ameyuri. She scooped Suigetsu up in her arms and leaned their foreheads together conspiratorially. "Listen to her, Suigetsu. You don't want to know what happened to the last guy who tried it, believe me."

Suigetsu laughed happily and patted his chubby hands against Mei's cheeks. Ameyuri was not so pleased.

"What the fuck's that s'posed to mean?"

Mei shrugged. "Oh, you know, just an expression."

"Hey, you're not talking about that guy from the pub last week, are you?"

In the kitchen, Mangetsu sighed. "I think this is the point where my mother would warn against filling Suigetsu's head with nonsense."

"He's barely three and stupid. Grow a pair," Ameyuri said.

Mei set Suigetsu down on the floor and let him waddle around while she went to help Mangetsu in the kitchen. Finally free of the grabby adults, Suigetsu set his sights on his brother's Hiramekarei, which was propped against the wall. It was big, probably shiny underneath all those wrappings, and it was his big brother's most prized possession. So naturally, Suigetsu needed to see what all the fuss was about. He made slow progress, but Ameyuri was too engrossed in what was going on in the kitchen to mind him.

"Wow, wish I had a camera. No one'll believe you two slaved away in the kitchen for little old me," she said.

"No one's slaving, and the only reason you're not helping is because we banned you from coming within ten feet of all kitchens," Mei said.

"Hey, is this about that time at the May Day feast? 'Cause I'm tellin' you that burger was possessed. How else could it've flown off the grill like it did? Not _my _fault."

Suigetsu had reached the wall and was now carefully inching his way toward Hiramekarei. He bared what few baby teeth he had in a devious grin as his prize was nearly within reach.

"Oh, and I suppose the fire spread on its own, too, not because you tried to fan it out?" Mei said.

Ameyuri climbed over the couch until she was kneeling on the backrest. "Well, duh, that's how all natural fires spread."

"What's natural about a burned hamburger patty?"

"Ugh, Mangetsu, hit her for me."

Mangetsu was busy stirring the broth. "I'm not getting involved in this."

_Victory! _Suigetsu slapped his little hands on Hiramekarei's bandaged length and pushed with all his might, but it didn't budge. Undeterred, he tried again and again, slapping his hands against the padded metal over and over.

"What's that sound?" Mei asked.

Mangetsu paused from his cooking and looked back over his shoulder at Ameyuri looking ready to pounce on the next thing that walked across her path. "Ameyuri, where's my brother?"

"Huh?" She looked around behind her, around her, then at the far wall. "Oh, shit!"

She leaped off the couch at blinding speed and rushed to the other side of the room just as Suigetsu's repeated slapping finally knocked Hiramekarei off its balance and sent it crashing to the floor. Out of nowhere, a wall of water sprang up at Suigetsu's feet and swept him away from the danger zone. Ameyuri hefted Hiramekarei up as Mangetsu, half-liquefied, began to rematerialize now holding Suigetsu around the middle.

Suigetsu, sopping wet, nevertheless clapped his hands. "Oh, shit!" he chanted.

Mangetsu sighed deeply. "Mother will kill me."

Mei manned the stew as she watched from the kitchen. Ameyuri managed to settle Hiramekarei against the wall again, but not without some effort. "How the hell do you carry this thing everywhere like it weighs nothing?"

"Practice," Mangetsu said.

"Well, you shouldn't keep it out in the open here. It's obviously dangerous for Juicebox, Jr."

"Oh, shit!" Suigetsu said again.

Mangetsu cupped a hand over his brother's mouth. "It's only dangerous if no one's watching him to make sure he doesn't touch things he shouldn't."

Ameyuri scowled. "Oh sure, it's all _my _fault."

"Technically, it is," Mei called from the kitchen.

"You shut up and keep stirring, Lava Girl."

Suigetsu had managed to wrangle free of Mangetsu's hand and now pawed at his brother's shoulders. "Manshu, down! Down!"

If Mei hadn't been looking, she would've missed the barest traces of a smile as Mangetsu gazed at his baby brother.

"You want to go down?" he asked.

"Yeah!"

"Okay."

Mangetsu dropped the boy on his rear and headed back to the kitchen. "Watch him, Ameyuri."

Ameyuri gaped in shock. "You just dropped a _baby_. What the fuck's wrong with you?"

But Suigetsu landed with a splash. He'd liquefied instinctively to cushion the fall. Happily, he struggled to his feet.

"God, it's like a smaller, smellier version of Mangetsu," Ameyuri said.

She kneeled down, and her twin Kiba swords clinked against the hardwood floor. The sound drew Suigetsu's undivided attention. Sharp and shiny, just what he liked! Donning a grin that reminded Mei eerily of the way Kisame looked when he was especially pleased with himself, Suigetsu waddled with his hands outstretched toward Ameyuri.

But she was ready this time for his grabby hands and flattened a palm against his forehead to stop him. He ended up missing her swords, but he earned himself a healthy consolation prize in the form of her long, red pigtails.

Mei laughed. "See, I told you long hair would be a bit hit with the boys."

"Oh, you just keep talkin'. You're _lucky _I'm banned from the kitchen."

Mangetsu went back to his cooking prep without another word, and Mei decided to join Ameyuri and Suigetsu in the living room. She kneeled down opposite them and watched as they faced off in a stalemate. His glare was nearly as fierce as Ameyuri's.

"Okay, tell you what, kid." Ameyuri drew one of her blades hilt-first and angled it toward Suigetsu. "I'll let you look, but you gotta let go of my beautiful hair. Deal?"

Suigetsu saw her drawing Kiba and immediately let go of her pigtails to grab at it. Ameyuri held him back, but she let him near enough to touch Kiba's hilt. The change in Suigetsu was instantaneous as he petted the ancient weapon and felt all the intricate grooves and layers that had gone into its mythical craftsmanship. His eyes were so wide Mei was sure they might pop out.

"Look at you, a smelly Swordsman in the making," Ameyuri said.

Suigetsu plopped down on his behind and continued to play with Kiba's hilt under Ameyuri's watchful eye. Mei reached out and ruffled his messy white hair, but he paid her no mind.

"Hey," she said, "how do you know he'll be a Swordsman? He doesn't have filed teeth like you and Mangetsu."

"He will," Ameyuri said. "And you better pray he's not a biter."

"When his adult teeth grow in, they'll be sharp," Mangetsu said. He was dishing out portions of beef stew for each of them now. "That is, if he's one of the chosen ones."

"Chosen? You're saying it's some kind of destiny thing?" Mei asked.

"The legendary Swordsmen're legendary for a reason," Ameyuri said.

Mangetsu brought bowls to the table one after the other. "The legend says that the swords only choose children that can cut as deeply as they can. Otherwise, they wouldn't be worthy. Naturally sharp teeth are a sign of being chosen."

"Huh, I never knew that," Mei said.

Mangetsu shrugged. "It's not widely advertised."

"So that means Kisame's chosen, then."

Ameyuri and Mangetsu exchanged a look briefly before she spoke. "Yeah, but there's also a quota limit. It's not like he can just have a sword that's already chosen someone else. Guess he's a back-up."

Mei crossed her arms defensively. "Kisame isn't back-up anything."

"No, he's not," Mangetsu said softly. "But whether or not my brother will be chosen remains to be seen. For now, let's eat."

"Finally! I'm starving!" Ameyuri was the first to reach the table.

Mei picked up Suigetsu, who was now pouting since Ameyuri ran off with _his _new toy. "You know, I'm really happy you have a brother."

Mangetsu was instantly suspicious. "Why's that?"

"Because it suits you. Taking care of someone who can't take care of himself, I mean."

"I only do it because my parents're away on a mission."

"Hey, when're they comin' back? I hope you're getting paid for babysitting," Ameyuri said through a mouthful of stew.

"They were supposed to be back last week, but complications arose."

Suigetsu began to tug at Mei's ponytail. "Hungee! Hungee!"

Mei rubbed his back. "Okay, okay, time for food. Don't fuss, Suigetsu."

"Hungee!"

"Suigetsu's like, what, fourteen years younger than us?" Ameyuri said. "Bet he was an accident, huh?"

Mei stomped her heel over Ameyuri's foot, and Ameyuri spit out a chunk of potato in surprise.

"Ow, shit!" she swore.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Suigetsu chanted.

"It doesn't matter," Mangetsu said as he took Suigetsu from Mei and settled him into his high chair. "He's my brother. That's all I care about."

Mei and Ameyuri exchanged a look, and Ameyuri grinned, her earlier discomfort forgotten. "True. But he's gonna have a hell of a potty mouth on him when he gets older."

"Oh, and whose fault is _that_?" Mei asked.

Knocking at the front door interrupted the conversation, and Mangetsu got up to answer it. "Kisame? What's up?"

Kisame peered inside at the set dinner table and something in his gaze faltered. Mei frowned. Something was wrong.

"Mangetsu, I need to talk to you. It's about your parents."

"Another delay?"

"No."

"Kissme!" Suigetsu cooed when he saw Kisame. He slapped his hands on his stool tray.

Mei ruffled his hair, suddenly cold and wanting to feel warmth.

"What's going on?" Mangetsu asked.

Kisame studied him a moment, peered inside once again, and sighed. Mei looked back at Suigetsu, and her heart froze.

"They were killed in action. A team retrieved their bodies just now."

Silence stretched as the weight of Kisame's words sank in. Mei's breath didn't come, and Ameyuri was uncharacteristically still and quiet. Mangetsu said nothing, didn't even flinch. Kisame put a hand on his shoulder.

"They're gone," he reiterated.

Suigetsu's slapping caused his baby spoon to fall and clatter to the floor. Ameyuri jumped in her seat, the only sound in the hollow void that had become the Hozuki family dining room. Mei continued to hold onto Suigetsu.

"I see," Mangetsu said finally. Hollow, like it wasn't really him speaking at all. It sent a shiver down Mei's spine. "Thank you for letting me know."

Ameyuri knocked over her chair when she stood up abruptly. The noise startled Suigetsu, or perhaps it was the chilly aura in the room that bothered him. He began to whimper. "Manshu?"

Mangetsu stiffened at his brother's voice.

Kisame let his hand fall and swallowed hard. "So, Yagura's gonna need replacements. Mei, since you're already here, there's no need for me to make two trips."

Mei's jaw dropped. "Me?"

"Us," he clarified. "We start at the end of the month."

He wasn't looking at her. He didn't see her trembling.

"Manshu," Suigetsu said again. He was working his way up to a good cry that would burst any minute now.

Ameyuri snapped and marched toward the door. She barrelled past Mangetsu and got right in Kisame's face. "What the _fuck _is your problem? What d'you mean, they're gone?"

Kisame let her get close, but he didn't fight her off even as she screamed two inches from his face. "Just what I said."

"You're a fucking piece of shit, Kisame." She shoved him hard, and he let her. She cast a scathing glance back at Mangetsu, one Mei hadn't seen much of since the Chuunin Exams. "And you, you're just gonna stand there and take it? What the hell's wrong with you?"

Mangetsu's eyes were wide as he held Ameyuri's gaze, but he said nothing. She shook her head and released a breath of angry frustration. "Goddamnit!"

She stormed outside. By now, Suigetsu was putting his fresh lungs to good use and wailing like his life depended on it.

"Manshu!"

Mei gathered Suigetsu up in her arms, and though he tugged at her to get away, she held him close and brought him to Mangetsu. He immediately reached for his brother and cried into his shoulder. Ameyuri was pacing outside, red with anger and uncaring that she'd left her jacket in the house. Mei went to her just as Kisame went inside with Mangetsu.

"Tell me what happened," she heard Mangetsu say. There was an edge to his voice that she'd never heard before.

"Ameyuri," Mei said.

"No, fuck Mangetsu and fuck his holier-than-thou bullshit. I'm so _mad _at him!"

"Ameyuri."

"And fuck Kisame. I swear I'm gonna beat the crap outta him when he gets outta there—"

"Ameyuri!"

Mei caught her by the shoulders and forced her to stop pacing. There were tears in her eyes, and Mei gasped. She had never seen Ameyuri cry in all their years of mutual suffering growing up in the Bloody Mist.

"And fuck his stupid parents for dying and leaving him and Suigetsu alone," she spat. "I'd kill 'em myself if they weren't already dead."

Mei pulled Ameyuri into a hug before she could lose control and begin to sob, too. The two of them were never much for physical contact of the kind that wasn't violent, but this time Ameyuri didn't put up a fight. Mei held her tight and didn't care that Ameyuri cried into her shoulder.

"Fuck 'em all," Ameyuri sobbed.

Mei's breath misted, and she knew they needed to get inside soon or they would catch pneumonia. She could hear Suigetsu's cries coming from the Hozuki household.

"Come on," she said, ushering Ameyuri in the direction of her house. Her father was at the Mizukage's tower at this hour, so they would have the place to themselves and he wouldn't bother them.

"Mei," Ameyuri said as she struggled to walk alongside her friend.

Mei kept her eyes resolutely ahead. The tears threatened to fall, but she bravely kept them at bay. They would only freeze on her cheeks. "We'll be here when he needs us," she said. "He's not alone."

They made their way through the freezing fog, and soon there was no trace of Mangetsu's house behind them, swallowed by the mist.

* * *

She hadn't seen Mangetsu in days. Ameyuri had absconded somewhere to train the day after news of Mangetsu's parents had reached them, and Mei hadn't heard from her since, either. Even Zabuza seemed oddly preoccupied at the Academy, of all places, where he'd enrolled a new clan recruit from a harvesting. The boy was a frail thing, almost feminine in his smallness, but he possessed a powerful bloodline limit—all the more reason not to get attached given the high mortality rates of bloodline limit carriers. The other kids tended to gang up on them, the way they had done with Mei. Only the strong survived.

Her new partnership with Kisame was not due to begin until the end of the month, and since the incident at Mangetsu's house, Mei had not seen much of Kisame. With Utakata still away on his mission, Mei had only her father for company. She sat across from him now, hours after they had finished their dinner, and recited her lessons for him.

"Tell me about the Senju-Uchiha Alliance," Yuu said as he stirred his tea.

Mei stared at a crack in the wooden table. "It was the result of a thousand year feud between the warring clans. The death of Izuna Uchiha motivated Madara, the Uchiha clan head, to accept the Senju's terms even though they were unequal. The Uzumaki clan mitigated."

Yuu tapped his spoon over the rim of his teacup. "An Academy student could have recited that drivel. Do you know nothing at all?"

Mei let her eyes fall shut and breathed deeply before continuing. "No, sir. Konoha was not formally created until some time after the alliance was cemented. That's because Madara Uchiha, Hashirama Senju, and Mito Uzumaki left to travel the continent in search of the nine Bijuu. Mito was the first person besides the Sage of Six Paths to discover how to seal the beasts into inanimate objects and later into living people. Many say it was their extended adventures together that drew Madara into a false sense of security until it was too late for him to back out of the alliance. He lost the support of his clan."

Yuu nodded. "Many? And I suppose you say otherwise?"

Mei opened her eyes and met his gaze. "Hashirama slew Madara, but he would have failed without Mito. Some historians claim she and Madara were in love at one point, and the fact that she was instrumental in sealing the Kyuubi within herself not only robbed him of his ultimate weapon, but also of his last dignity. Hashirama took his life, but she took his honor. That was his true downfall."

Yuu's frown deepened. "How like a woman to elevate another woman."

"On the contrary, Father, history shows that we're our own worst enemies. Most women fight other women because they believe themselves to be no match for men."

"I suppose you think that makes you special," he sneered.

"I'd like to think it makes me like Mito. She understood her position, and she used it to achieve a calculated end. Besides, isn't it true that while men live to flaunt their battles, women wage war in the shadows?"

Yuu set down his tea. "Perhaps you can learn something from Mito Uzumaki and all the women before you who lived their lives in the shadows of men far greater than they ever were. In that sense, I suppose you _are _like her."

Mei clenched her fists around the skirt of her yukata under the table hard enough to hide their rageful trembling. Her eyes, however, softened as she smiled for her father. "You are wise, Father."

He grunted and waved her off like an afterthought. "To bed with you, girl. I tire of your presence."

Mei lowered her head so that her bangs hid her expression, and she took a moment to clench her teeth. Then, in one fluid motion, she rose from the table and bowed low to her father. "Goodnight."

Yuu said nothing, and Mei backed away toward the sliding shoji door. Once through, she walked at a sedate pace toward her room down the hall. It wasn't until she was secured safely inside with the door shut that she gave into the urge to shake. Heat rose to her face as a wave a of incandescent fury passed through her. But she was silent in her private tantrum.

_Ignorant fool. It's _him_ who knows nothing._

Her room had become a repository of other people's lives, but the books she treasured the most were those tucked away behind the tall brass mirror in the corner. Tales of women throughout the ages, current and ancient, from the world renowned Sannin, Tsunade, to the Uzumaki Princess Mito who had shouldered the weight of two tragic but great men on her shoulders, to the mythical fables surrounding the first kunoichi and creator of ninjutsu, Kaguya Ootsutsuki. Women of greatness, not because they were born to it or stumbled upon it, but because they snatched it for themselves. Whether for good or for evil or just for themselves, they were every bit as important as their male contemporaries; there were just fewer of them. Shadows, after all, are not meant to be seen. That is, until they took that final leap directly, fearless, and all of a sudden they were the ones casting shadows with the all the power of the sun in the palms of their hands.

Mei stripped out of her yukata, suddenly hot despite the winter chill, and changed into loose-fitting ninja clothing. She gazed out the window at the red lanterns glowing in the near distance. The fog blurred them and gave them the appearance of wandering ghosts, lonely in the night. Utakata still wasn't back from his mission, and it had been too long. He was strong, and Mei had the utmost faith in him, but they always found their way back to each other after extended periods away.

"Where are you?" she whispered against the glass. Her breath fogged it up.

It was late, nearly midnight, but Mei was not tired. Lately she'd found it hard to sleep. With no further missions until this new partnership with Kisame started, there was nothing to keep her busy and distracted. Normally, she would seek out one of her friends, but that wasn't an option right now. As she stared, the red lanterns in the distance seemed to bob and beckon, will-o-wisps calling her to her fate among the mists.

"Fuck this."

Mei went to the closet and pulled on her winter shinobi jacket and boots. After dressing and leaving a water clone asleep in her bed, she opened the window and escaped the confines of her room. Outside the cold was blistering and wet, but it was better than being stuck in that small, stuffy room. Pulling her jacket tighter, Mei walked toward the red lanterns that marked the edge of the fishing district and disappeared into the mists.

* * *

An oil lamp was the office's only source of illumination save for the crescent moon outside. Ao hovered near the door, silent as he awaited Yagura's orders.

"My lord, about the scouts' reports. If we don't act soon, it'll be too late."

Warm light cast a golden veil upon Yagura's smooth youthful cheek, but his back was to Ao as he gazed out the window. Despite his better judgment, Ao's gaze lingered on his leader's back. The longer he stared, the more the shadows undulated—his imagination?

Yagura looked back over his shoulder. One eye glowed green through the darkness. "Yes, we have to do something before it's too late," Yagura said.

Ao cleared his throat. "Right, sir. I'll send word to all the Jōnin in the village. We'll start with diversionary tactics. With any luck, we can avoid any serious confrontations."

"No, mobilize every shinobi in the village. I want this threat gone. Permanently."

Ao stilled. "Sir? Forgive me, but you can't be serious. What you're suggesting is all-out war. Mist casualties will be innumerable. We can beat back the invaders without—"

"_I said, fight_," Yagura snarled in a voice that was not his.

It wasn't even a voice, but more of a feeling. A threat. Adrenaline made Ao tremble with the desire to flee his sovereign's presence.

"Do it," Yagura said in his normal voice, turning back to the window.

Ao bowed low. "Y-Yes, sir."

Without another moment's hesitation, he left Yagura alone to call on all able shinobi in Mist, from Genin to ANBU. Yagura peered at the village below. Red lanterns blinked like a hundred sinister eyes through the fog in the distance. Yagura's mismatched eyes, one vacuous lavender and the other glowing green, gazed deeply into the rolling mists.

"Kill them all," he whispered.

"_Yes."_

"_Kill them!"_

"_Boil their blood."_

"_Kill them before they kill you..."_

Yagura gripped the windowsill, white-knuckled, and whipped around. He searched the dark corners of his office.

"No, I'll get them first." His breaths came quick and shallow. "I'll get them all."

"_All of them."_

He raised a hand to his aching head and dug his fingernails into his scalp until it bled.

"All of them."

* * *

Not long after Mei had set out with the intention of walking along the shore, something in the air shifted. Doors were locked up tight and shutters were drawn. Her steps were light and silent. Cautious. When had she decided on the need for caution? She walked by a narrow alley, and something metal crashed to the floor. A trash can, perhaps. There was no telltale _meow_ from a neighborhood tomcat looking for fish scraps. Mei put a hand on the hilt of the tantō at her hip. The crescent moon overhead smiled down at her with red teeth, a bad omen.

"Smoke," she said, smelling it on the wind.

Another rattle of something, this time behind her, a block or two away. Mei abandoned the sword at her hip and released a deep breath. Mist hid her from the red lanterns' blinking eyes, and she ran.

* * *

Ao stole through Mist's shrouded streets. The fog had gotten thicker as the minutes ticked by and more shinobi rose to his cause. They flocked to the noises, the rattles and scrapes and growls. Mist shinobi were silent as the fog itself, and the enemy was thus easily distinguishable.

"Die, you cowards!"

Ao's Byakugan saved him in time to avoid a hammer that would have bashed in his skull. Moving without thinking, he jammed a curved kunai into his assailant's back between the shoulder blades. The man cried out and fell to the ground, twitching. Blood poured out of him and stained his braided hair. Ao retrieved the weapon and wiped it off on the dead man's pants.

"Captain," one of Ao's subordinates said. "It's the Kaguya clan. They're coming from the south."

"Go quietly. Yagura wants them gone."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. No survivors."

The Mist shinobi were not the types to question orders, and so they moved to do their duty. But the enemy kept coming in droves. It wasn't long before silence was a fond memory and the fires broke out. A big man with an axe came in swinging without a care in the world. Ao watched as he plowed through five or six Mist Chuunin, careless of the wounds he amassed on his pyrrhic quest. Curved kunai stuck out from wounds in his abdomen, and blood coated his thighs and left hand. Still, he swung true and steady, cackling all the way.

"Come out, little ants!" he shouted.

Ao activated the Byakugan and flew through a round of hand seals. Drawing upon the mists for water, he sent a hail of needle-like water rivulets toward the attacker and hit him dead center. The man teetered and belched up blood, but he kept coming. He caught Ao in his sights.

"Damnit," Ao swore, drawing his katana.

"Do that again!"

The attacker—more monolith than man—lumbered toward Ao like a drunkard toward the liquor cabinet. He swung his axe, greedy for blood, and Ao met the searching blade with his own. They crossed and passed each other, close enough to see the whites of the eye, and it was too close. There was something in the assailant's eyes, something too familiar, and Ao faltered. Perhaps sensing hesitation, the attacker put all his weight into the blow and fell forward. Ao, however, was quicker and uninjured. He twisted to the right, grabbed one of the kunai embedded in the attacker's flank, and stabbed it into the base of his neck.

Ao's katana and the attacker's axe clattered to the ground, and the attacker fell with them. Ao stumbled to catch himself. His breathing was labored and laced with adrenaline. The Byakugan quickly confirmed that his assailant was dead. After a few seconds of just standing there, Ao retrieved his katana and looked to the moon. It was red with rising smoke and heat from a fire that had broken out somewhere nearby.

He cast one last glance at the fallen shinobi, remembering the look of madness in his eyes. The Kaguya clan were known for their predilection toward violence, but this was something else. It was suicide. And Yagura was happy to grant them their wish, force it upon them, in fact. Mist shinobi ran ahead of Ao to pursue the encroaching threat. Ao cast one last glance at the fallen enemy before taking off after them.

* * *

If he'd known, he wouldn't have come.

_Liar. _

"_This is your destiny. You don't want to disobey your destiny, do you?"_

"No," the little boy said aloud.

But as he ran through the streets, barefoot despite winter's chill, he wasn't so sure. Why did destiny have to be so cruel? What had he ever done?

"_You existed. That was your crime."_

The little boy choked on a sob as his father's words echoed in his memory, but he didn't cry. It wasn't the time to cry. His father was counting on him. Screams mingled with laughter in the night and rose as high as the fires that broke out around the Bloody Mist Village. That was what his father called this place. Said it was cursed, that the raid tonight would cleanse the village and their clan.

_Destiny_, he'd called it.

So destiny was running over freezing cobblestone streets with cuts in his feet but no will to stop because whatever was chasing him would catch up. Destiny was the encroaching mist that got thicker the deeper he went and clouded his lungs and his vision like a toxic miasma. It was those red lanterns that lit a fateful path before him, but to where? He didn't want to know.

Men lay dead at his feet. They hadn't expected him. But something had. _Something_ had noticed, like a slumbering beast drawn out of hibernation at the first scent of blood in its territory. And it wasn't letting him get away. The little boy ran past his fighting clansmen, past the fires, and followed the red lanterns, beacons in the night strong enough to penetrate the viscous fog that followed him.

Until he hit a dead end. Shaking, he clutched the crude knife in his hand, bloody with entrails of men twice his size and half his worth. He felt around the bricks for something, as if the wall would open up and lead him to salvation. But there was no escape from the roiling mist, bloody with the glow of the will-o-wisps that had led him here to face his destiny. Wide green eyes glazed over with fear and excitement, and he waited for the beast that hunted him. But there was nothing but the fog.

He swallowed and slashed his knife through the gaseous veil. "Who's there?"

Men's shouts in the distance reached him here as if through wool, muffled and so far, far away. Another world, mesmerizing, where the shadows that closed in on him were friendly, and dreams weren't just dreams. A hand reached for him through the mist, and his first instinct was to reach back.

_Mother? _he wanted to say.

_Monster_...

"Don't be afraid," a woman's voice said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The little boy bared his teeth and brandished his knife. The mists slowly parted to reveal the figure of a young woman in shinobi gear. Her long hair, which he'd mistaken for a veil in the shadows, was pulled back from her face and revealed bright green eyes that reflected his own. She peered down at him and at the knife he held.

"Don't come any closer!" he warned.

She stood there in silence for a few moments just watching him. In the background, the world continued to burn, though she seemed not to care.

"Did you make that?" she asked.

The little boy cast a glance at his weapon. "So what?"

Slowly, so he wouldn't spook, the woman stepped closer and held out her hand. It was padded with armor, but he could make out her soft hands underneath it. Unblemished. And perhaps it was simply that a six-year-old boy could not distinguish truth from lies, but he wanted to think it was her hands. They were like a child's hands, untouched and unscarred, though she was no child and he could not understand at his age that a lack of scars was the mark of the most dangerous kind of shinobi. He gave her the knife.

"Bone," she said after a moment of examination. "You made this."

It wasn't a question this time. He nodded.

"Show me."

The little boy held out his trembling hand. From his palm, a jagged bone broke the skin and grew upward. The natural grooves and cracks in it filled with his blood, which dripped onto the cold cobblestone street. She kneeled down so that they were at eye level.

"_Kill them all," _his father had ordered.

"What's your name?" she asked.

The little boy swallowed. Her gaze never left his as she waited, patient, for his reply.

"Kimimaro," he said softly.

She studied him a while longer before holding out the bone blade to him, hilt first. "Kimimaro," she said. "Let's get you out of here."

* * *

Ao stared at the group of cornered Kaguya shinobi, the last of the raiders. There were not fifteen of them when before they'd numbered in the eighties or nineties. The small group was surrounded on all sides by Mist shinobi hours after the raid had begun. Now, they waited.

"Is this it?"

All eyes turned to Yagura, who approached now through the crowd of Mist shinobi. He stepped on the bodies of the fallen, both Mist and Kaguya, as though they weren't even there. His luminous green eye glowed more sinister in the light from surrounding fires.

"These are the survivors, Lord Yagura," Ao said.

The Kaguya sneered at their enemies, but none actually dared to attack. Yagura planted his staff in the ground and smiled.

"What survivors?" he asked.

Some of the Mist shinobi exchanged looks, but no one said a word. One of the Kaguya shinobi leered at Yagura.

"Well? C'mon, little man. This ain't finished."

Yagura's smile fell. "Oh yes, it is."

He slammed his foot on the ground and swept his staff in an arc before him. Boiling red chakra bloomed from its tip and raced toward the gathered Kaguya survivors. As it neared, it condensed into pink coral branches that ramified in all directions. The Kaguya shinobi roared and lunged with their swords and fists, but the coral moved too fast. Sharp branches pierced stomachs and burst through the backs of the Kaguya shinobi. The attack rooted them in place while more coral points pierced their legs, arms, even clean through their skulls. It grew right through them like weeds through loose fertilizer. Ao looked away, unable to stomach the sight.

"Are you sure that was all of them?" Yagura asked.

Ao swallowed the bile in his throat. "Yes, sir."

"Check again. These Kaguya are like rodents. It only takes one to spread the plague."

Ao bowed stiffly, and Yagura took his leave. The rest of the Mist shinobi watched him go in silence. From within the coral web Yagura had woven, some shinobi still screamed and moaned in pain. But no one moved to help them.

"You heard him," Ao said. "Fan out and make sure none escaped."

His own voice sounded distant to him, like an old recording instead of his own. He coughed into his arm and tasted bile fumes. But the Mist shinobi obeyed. Only Momochi Zabuza remained, the last to go.

"That means you, Momochi," Ao said.

Zabuza said nothing as he stared back. Heat in the air rippled his image, and Ao bit his cheek. But Zabuza turned to leave just as Ao worked up the courage to say something else, something convincing. Alone with the mass grave, Ao keeled over and threw up. All the while, the last of the Kaguya clan moaned as they waited for a slow death.

* * *

Mei ran through the streets with Kimimaro in tow. She dragged him by the hand and led him through the village's back alleys, the same ones she and Utakata had memorized as kids playing tag or hiding from Mei's father.

"Where're we going?" Kimimaro asked.

Mei pulled him around a corner. "Shh."

Time was precious, as precious as this little boy's life. Mei had never been particularly sympathetic to the plights of children—no one had given a damn about her as a child, so why should she bother? But this boy was special, like her. Doomed, like her.

The Kaguya clan was well known as the scourge of Water Country, reckless bandits and pirates that pilfered and plundered their way through entire towns, leaving nothing but ash and smoke in their wake. Yagura didn't bother with them because he was waiting for something. It wasn't until Mei met Kimimaro that she understood. But Yagura would not have this boy for his little collection of bloodline freaks, not over her dead body.

They rounded a corner and came upon some wandering Mist shinobi. Kimimaro squeezed her hand, but Mei exhaled deeply and the mist thickened. Someone swore, and the distraction was enough to buy Mei time enough to slip past them with Kimimaro. In minutes, they had reached the village's outskirts. Kimimaro tugged on her hand.

"Kimimaro," she said gently. "You have to leave this place."

"My father's still back there."

Mei cast a glance back toward the village and the conflagration near the city center. "No, he's not."

Kimimaro's gaze fell to his feet, and Mei bit her lip.

"Listen to me. You're better off not sticking around. People like you and me have it rough here. You have to find something better."

He looked up at her, and there were tears in his eyes. She kneeled down and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Trust me. You're better off far away from this place."

Kimimaro looked back at the village, but his tears didn't fall. Mei watched his profile, strong for a child so young, and wondered if this was the right thing to do.

"Okay," he said.

He pulled away and wandered toward the woods. Mei's hand reached after him, those final thoughts dying with his every step. Soon, he was gone amongst the shadows.

"It's better this way," she said.

But the only one left here to convince was herself.

* * *

Yellow eyes watched the lonely little boy as he fled for his life through a dark and dreary wood. And when he finally stopped to rest, afraid of what he might find behind him, they lingered, curious.

The little boy kneeled before a lone moonflower and admired its thick, fleshy petals open to the moonlight above. Shadows watched as the boy traced the petals, mesmerized even after visions of horror. How easily a child's mind forgets when it finds something new, something beautiful.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

The little boy looked up, startled. "Who's there?"

"Makes you want to pick it and keep it forever, don't you think?"

Monsters masquerading as men lurk around every corner.

The little boy rose and gazed up at the man with the yellow eyes swathed in friendly shadows. "But it'll die if I pick it."

The man grinned. "Yes, but it will be _yours_."

And maybe there's no purpose for monsters or men in this life. But sometimes, by chance or by grand design or maybe just _because_, they stumble upon each other.

Like the little boy found that flower.

And like the shadows found him.


	6. Killer

**Chimera, Chapter 6: Killer  
**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

In the months after the Kaguya clan massacre, Mei became very busy. So busy, in fact, that she saw very little of her friends, and when she did, it was as if things were changing faster than she could keep up with.

Mangetsu threw himself into his training when he wasn't home taking care of Suigetsu. It got to the point where he would bring Suigetsu along, unable to find a babysitter willing to put up with the devilish infant most days. Suigetsu was delighted for his 'Manshu Time'. He'd traded in his pacifier for a curved kunai. Mei was horrified one day when she arrived at Mangetsu's house only to find Suigetsu bleeding from both hands as he slashed a kunai against a tree trunk in the front yard. But Mangetsu told her to leave the boy alone, he had to learn somehow, and pain was the best way to learn what not to do.

"He's just a child," Mei argued.

"Children have to learn to defend themselves more than anyone," Mangetsu said. "This is the Bloody Mist. You know it as well as I do."

Mei bit her tongue. She did know, just as she knew no one would be there to protect Suigetsu or Haku or any of the other children in this village when disaster struck, as it had done when death claimed Mangetsu's parents. Here, it was every man, woman, and child for themselves, kill or be killed. The ones who did not learn that lesson early did not live to see their wisdom teeth grow in. Mei knew this.

But she took the kunai from Suigetsu, anyway, and brought him inside to wash his hands and bandage them. He complained the whole time about wanting to go back outside and play with Manshu, but Mei told him to be patient.

"No!" Suigetsu shouted. "I wanna fight! Fight like Manshu!"

"Oh, really? You want to fight? You can't even pronounce your brother's name right," Mei said as she secured the bandage around Suigetsu's small hand.

He glared up at her like he knew exactly what she was doing and guess what, boss lady, he was _not _happy about it. "I fight," he said stubbornly. "Manshu and Kissme and Myuree fight. _I _fight!"

Mei sighed, wishing she could take pleasure in his inane nicknames for her friends. But when a three-year-old confesses to you his dreams of maiming and bludgeoning in the footsteps of monsters masquerading as men, laughter is not easy to indulge. Mei ruffled Suigetsu's short white hair.

"Show me some sharp teeth, then we'll talk," she said.

He tried to bite her finger, but Mei yanked it away just in time and scooped him up to take him back outside. Mangetsu was still at it with Hiramekarei, and he landed hard in the grass just as Mei stepped outside. The earth split and chunks of dirt and grass went flying under the force of his demonic sword. Suigetsu squirmed out of Mei's arms and landed with a wet plop on the ground. He scrambled to his little feet and waddled as fast as he could to Mangetsu's side.

"Don't you have a mission to get to?" Mangetsu said, handing Suigetsu a spare kunai now that Mei had taken the other one. Suigetsu squealed, delighted, and began slashing the air with the little weapon, trying his very best to emulate Mangetsu's fluid technique.

"I'm not allowed to visit my friend before I leave for two weeks?" Mei said.

Mangetsu leaned against Hiramekarei and averted his gaze. "That's not what I meant."

She approached him slowly. "I'm worried about you," she said softly so Suigetsu wouldn't overhear. "We all are. You haven't said a word about what happened."

Mangetsu ran his fingers roughly through his sweat-damp white hair. "There's nothing to say. They're gone, and I'm still here with Suigetsu. This is the new normal."

Mei had nothing to say to that. Her throat clenched and she ached to reassure him, to tell him it was okay to be sad, to be the kid he still was, they both were in so many ways. But not in the ways that mattered growing up in the Bloody Mist. Mei knew this, too.

She touched her fingers lightly to his shoulder. "Nobody said the new normal had to be every man for himself."

Mangetsu's eyes widened in surprise at her words, an echo of a lifetime past. He removed her hand from his shoulder, holding it in his gently, just for a small moment. "Yeah," he said.

He broke the contact, and Mei smiled. Suigetsu face-planted in the grass all of a sudden and dropped his kunai. "Oh shit," he muttered, tearing up.

Mei did laugh this time. "You can thank Ameyuri for his potty mouth when he grows up."

Mangetsu scooped Suigetsu up and rocked him a bit to stay the tears before they could fall. "I'll be sure to do that."

They parted ways, but Mei lingered a moment at the street corner to watch the brothers. Suigetsu was tugging on Mangetsu's long bangs, and Mangetsu liquefied his hair as a joke. Suigetsu thought it was the funniest thing and laughed, and Mangetsu smiled a little. Mei bit back a smile of her own and left them to their family time. It must be nice, she thought, to have someone who loved you unconditionally. Someone who looked up to you and relied on you with no ulterior motive. She supposed Mangetsu needed that more than anyone now after the devastating loss of his parents. This was the new normal.

* * *

Mei headed swiftly to the edge of the village to the designated meeting spot. She'd only meant to stop at Mangetsu's place for a short visit since she had not seen him in nearly two weeks, and now she was running a bit late. Clad in her grey Jōnin flak vest, arm and leg guards, and sensible blue shinobi gi, she was ready for the journey ahead.

Kisame was waiting for her when she got to the city limits. He matched her in attire, like they were two hired mercs off to watch over some rich lordling, which was not too far off from the truth. Except for the part where they were going to kill the rich lordling on Yagura's orders. The lordling, who was no lordling at all, but rather the kingpin of the largest civilian crime syndicate in Water Country, was funneling exorbitant sums of money through a sprawling drug trade operation, which normally would not bother anybody if it wasn't money already promised to the Mizukage's coffers. No one avoided taxes in Water Country and lived to tell about it for long.

This was the mission Mei and Kisame had been working on for the past few months in the wake of Mangetsu's parents' deaths. As it turned out, what should have been a routine bait and kill job had dragged on and on due to the kingpin's connections and considerable wealth. Which meant he could buy the best protection on the continent. Unusually cautious and paranoid and with his pick of the cream of the crop of missing nin, the kingpin, one Kazuo Taoka, was untouchable. Mei knew this because she and Kisame had spent many weeks learning his habits and proclivities from afar while carefully penetrating his organization from the ground up.

He never let anyone he did not trust implicitly within more than fifteen feet of him at any time. The exception to this rule was the handful of his most trusted 'little brothers', as he called them. They were his second-in-commands, both civilian and shinobi, and anybody who wanted to deal with Taoka had to deal with them first. Even girls hardly got near him without a full body search and careful supervision by a trusted little brother. Taoka had no modesty, and he did not suffer it in his women, either. Unlike many rich and powerful men in this world, Taoka mistrusted a woman as much as he mistrusted a man. Perhaps more. Hence, the dilemma.

When Yagura's chief Hunter, Ao, briefed Mei and Kisame on the mission, Kisame's first question was why they could not simply kill everyone in the compound once they located Taoka.

"Because we want Taoka gone, not his organization," Ao explained. "Lord Yagura wishes to send a message."

_Yeah, a message condoning violence and rape and murder so long as you pay the tithe._

Mei was not sure what to think about Ao. He was lauded as a strong shinobi in Mist and in the other great ninja villages. At some point in his lucrative career, he'd even managed to harvest a Byakugan eye from an enemy Leaf shinobi and have it transplanted into himself. Now, he was at the top of Konoha's kill-on-sight list, a feat not many managed under the Fourth Hokage's hand-holding policies.

Minato Namikaze was known far and wide as Konoha's Yellow Flash, one of the most powerful shinobi alive today and a war hero several times over, but he led a war-weary Konoha ready to let go of old grudges and past wrongs for a chance at peace. Even so, Ao occupied a coveted spot on Konoha's most wanted list, and he was still here doing what he did best. A strong and daring shinobi if there ever was one, but there was something mysterious about him, a caution born of experience and years in a job with a higher mortality rate than professional heli-skiing or bomb-making. He was the kind of guy whose true sympathies were never apparent until it was too late to do anything about them. He could not be trusted.

"Then what do you suggest?" Mei asked.

Ao looked between the two young Jōnin before him like he could not wait to be out of this meeting. "Whatever you want. As long as Taoka is taken care of quietly with minimal damage to his business, that's all that matters."

Kisame just chuckled, and that was the end of it. That conversation had been months ago, and in between Mei's excursions with Kisame to learn everything they could about Taoka, she took shorter missions closer to home for the money. She had every intention of saving every penny she could. Her father had total control of the Terumī fortune, and while Mei could tolerate sharing a roof with him, she could not abide not having a way out if she needed one.

Now, Mei and Kisame walked side by side out of Mist in silence. They passed by the larger clan compounds, once lavish manses now abandoned and forgotten along with the families that had once lived in them. Like Mei's own clan, most of the shinobi clans that had owned these homes had been culled down to the last and most promising member once Yagura assumed the mantle of Mizukage. There was no need to feed twenty mouths when one could accomplish the same ends alone.

"I like it here," Kisame said. "It's peaceful."

They passed by a particularly large compound. The roof of the northernmost room was caved in and rotted, and moss and weeds had begun to encroach on the wrap-around porch, peeking through the floorboards like trapped fingers. Mei rubbed her hands together for warmth.

"It's not peaceful, it's dead," she said.

Kisame spared her a glance, those mirthful grey eyes lingering on her profile like he found her opinion amusing. "Death is peace. And besides, this place doesn't belong to anyone anymore. Now it's just a reflection of what you want it to be."

Mei thought about that as they leisurely made their way west. "I guess. But I don't think we belong here."

He was silent for a moment. "No, I guess I don't."

Mei dropped the subject as Kisame seemed to retreat into himself, lost in thought. She wondered where he went, what it must be like for him. She had never known anyone quite like him. No one else in the village looked like him, and aside from the little he'd told her, she had no idea where he'd come from or why. He had a dream of becoming one of the Seven Legendary Swordsmen, a dream he trained and bled for every day since she'd met him even though he'd been passed over. He still worked toward his goal, even now, and she knew it would pay off one day. His time would come, as she'd told him so long ago.

But there was something tragic about Kisame, something buried deep that no matter how much confidence she had in herself or in him, he would never show her. Something he kept hidden in a place like this where only the dead could understand, something very lonely and very sad.

"_We're all monsters," _he'd told her that day so many years ago.

But monsters are not the sharp teeth and blue skin and terrible power people can see and taste and feel for themselves. The truly monstrous is what remains unseen, the thing buried deep. It is dangerous because it is among us, one of us, a friend or a lover or a parent or a child seen in just the wrong light, not quite right, hiding in plain sight until it is too late to escape. It is familiar, and we do not want to escape it.

What was Kisame hiding, she wondered as they made their way through this graveyard that did not look like a graveyard. What did he think she was hiding when he'd called her a monster?

Mei was not altruistic, at least no more than the next person in Mist. She looked out for herself, and she learned to look out for the people she cared about as she grew older, as much as they would let her. But like Mangetsu had reminded her, in the Bloody Mist it was every woman for herself. At the end of the day, she was only as good as she was standing on her own two feet. But with Kisame, she had always felt a strange desire to know more, to care more. Maybe it was because he had no one else. Everyone had someone. Mei had her friends and even her father, who could have kicked her to the curb whenever he wanted to, but instead he raised her, educated her, prepared her in the only way he knew how for this mad world where little girls were born to suffer, bleed, and die. Who did Kisame have?

They passed their journey in relative silence, though it was not an uncomfortable one. They had made this trip many times together now, and words were not necessary. Over the past few months, Kisame and Mei and learned all that they could about Taoka and how best to corner him. They had settled on doing the opposite of what Ao envisioned. Instead of infiltrating Taoka's inner circle with force or persuasion or lies, they got menial jobs working for him. Posing as mercenary shinobi, they began their mission at the bottom of the barrel facilitating drug runs, acting as bodyguards to Taoka's accountants, and even shuttling his women between safe houses. It was not until the third month that they had even heard Taoka's voice, and that was only via radio conference. The man was cautious to a fault, constantly changing locations and never associating directly with anyone he did not trust with his life.

But Taoka was not their direct target. The only ones who could get close to Taoka were his little brothers, the trusted circle. To get Taoka, they needed to compromise one of the little brothers, and they'd been working on a target for all these months. Shinobu Tsukasa was an up and coming member of Taoka's syndicate, having originally made a name for himself as a sword for hire. While no shinobi, Tsukasa hailed from the Land of Iron and had trained with the samurai from a young age. He relocated to Water Country on the run after murdering a prominent crime boss visiting from the Land of Lightning with a katana. The samurai pursued him and his small circle of followers out of the Land of Iron and far to the east, until Tsukasa disappeared in Water Country. Yagura had no tolerance for extradition or other such nonsense that would deprive the Bloody Mist of its due retribution, and so the samurai abandoned their chase, confident that Tsukasa could never return to the Land of Iron. After falling back into his old habits, Tsukasa found work as a sword for hire in a small branch of Taoka's syndicate, working his way up until one day, he was finally invited to Taoka's inner circle after so many years of loyalty.

It was through Tsukasa that Kisame and Mei planned to reach Taoka, and in this last leg of the mission, they planned to do just that. Having proven themselves as efficient and trustworthy mercs, Tsukasa had staffed them on security for a very exclusive party at the end of the coming two weeks. Taoka would be in attendance to meet with his various lieutenants, Tsukasa included. The end was in sight, finally.

Kisame and Mei had purchased a log cabin as their base of operations well outside of Tsukasa's network. The cabin was remotely located on the moors outside of Nago, a small town that doubled as one of Taoka's main bases. It was here that Tsukasa oversaw his share of Taoka's drug trafficking operations, and it was here that Taoka would visit in person next week for the party.

Mei and Kisame spent their nights over the two weeks overseeing Tsukasa's operations, as usual. They guarded drug labs where civilians mixed chemicals and packed product, then accompanied the product to a drop site, ensured payment, and returned with the payment to a secured location. It was simple work, but discreet. Tsukasa was a smart man and never used the same drop spots twice, and he rotated out his workers regularly to discourage camaraderie.

It was dull work, but necessary in order to keep their eyes on the prize. Tsukasa was in charge of ensuring that everything went smoothly at the upcoming party, and that meant security needed to be tight but seamless. Having established a reputation for discretion and reliability within Tsukasa's branch of the syndicate, Mei and Kisame's many months of preparation paid off when Tsukasa personally selected them to be a part of the security detail at the party.

Tonight was the night, and Mei was nervous. She had a big part to play, and if she fucked up, it would be the end of both Kisame and her. Nothing short of perfection would suffice tonight. Mei examined her reflection in the dingy mirror in the small bathroom of their room in an inn in the heart of Nago, one of Tsukasa's establishments largely patronized by his employees. She could barely see all of her face, let alone her hair. But she studied her painted lips, puckered just so, the shadowy makeup around her eyes, the smooth lines of her cheekbones angled in such a way that she knew would draw eyes.

"_Beauty is a fact, not an opinion," _Pakura had told her that day in the pub in Mist.

Mei stared at her reflection and knew the words to be truth. Half of the game was confidence, anyway, and she had that in spades. Perhaps to her detriment, as Ameyuri liked to remind her. But she would rather be arrogant and ready to face her demons head-on than diffident and too scared even to leave her room. Modesty never accomplished anything. So she smoothed the skirt of her simple but elegant blue dress and exited the bathroom, ready to confront whatever demons awaited tonight.

Kisame was dressed in a black suit that fit him like a glove and clung to all the right places. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered and lean and cut like a diamond. Mei stopped to admire him openly while he had his back to her, curious at how different he looked without his nodachi hanging at his hip and the blood of his enemies staining his arm guards. He heard her heels clicking on the linoleum floor and spared her a glance that lingered just a little too long. She noticed.

"Well?" she asked.

He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated as he looked her up and down. Her blue dress was long and cut to the thigh for ease of movement more than for appeal, but from the way he watched her, Mei figured it was two birds, one stone. Her long sleeves tapered over her fingers like water, disarming—surely no kunoichi would wear something so hindering. Her auburn hair was long and loose and tousled, more smoke and mirrors to disarm and distract.

Kisame nodded and went back to fiddling with his cufflinks. "Blue's a good color for you, kid."

Mei's sky-high confidence suffered a tiny hiccup, and anger took its place as she balled her fists and glared at his back. "I'm not a kid, Kisame. Least of all tonight."

He grunted. "Yeah, yeah, let's just get this over with. If I gotta listen to Tsukasa's story about how he offed that Cloud kingpin forever ago one more time, I'll cut out his tongue and shove it up his ass where it belongs."

Mei had the sudden urge to punch him. No reason, really, she just thought she'd feel better. But that would be childish, which was _not _the point she wanted to make. Instead, she walked to his side and took his wrist from him. He was having trouble securing the last cufflink, and she carefully pinned it in place. Kisame said nothing as she ran her thumb over the simple silver button, but he did not pull his hand away. Mei traced the back of his hand with her long fingers. His skin was blue-grey, like the onset of frostbite before it killed the cells and turned the skin black, the moment just before death, perfectly preserved. It wasn't scaly or rough except for the various scars that riddled his fingers and palms from his Academy days learning the art of the sword. His nails were neatly trimmed, perhaps a little too short, but carefully groomed. And he was cool to the touch, or perhaps it was the heat in her hands summoned by ire and inexperience that contrasted so starkly with his collected calm, she could not be sure. But she didn't care in those few seconds when he didn't pull away and she held him gently, like that day on the beach when they'd watched that fisherman brave the riptides and knock on a god's door.

Kisame pulled away then and fisted his hand like she'd burned him. "...Anyway, we need to go. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

He showed her his back as he outfitted himself with several curved kunai and a knife in his boot, among other nasty surprises. Mei carried no weapons on her person; her role did not call for them. She wondered what Ganryū would think of her going in without so much as a kunai on her person.

"_Arm yourself because no one else here will save you."_

_I'm plenty armed, _she thought as she caught her reflection in the dingy bathroom mirror, remembering his wise warning to her from so long ago.

"Let's go," Kisame said, holding the door for her.

Mei marched across the room and headed outside. She'd spent weeks learning how to walk in these ridiculous shoes and complained the entire time to Ameyuri. Who wore such godawful contraptions on their feet? Didn't people know it was uncomfortable and impractical to walk on one's tiptoes and a thin stick under the heel?

"Pain is the price of beauty," Ameyuri had said. "Seems kinda fitting, I guess."

Mei had agreed. A beautiful woman was a dangerous woman, but power came with a price. Mei could pay that price a thousand times over, she was sure of it every day she spent walking around the room in these tiny torture devices. Arrogant, remember? But with Kisame there to watch her back, she was willing to put all her eggs in one basket.

Together, Mei and Kisame made the short trek to the compound where Tsukasa's party was being held. It had once belonged to a lord of some kind, but he'd been driven out years ago. Nago now existed to labor for Taoka's syndicate and nothing else. Tonight, the compound had been transformed into a lavish party room complete with a dance floor, a private outdoor courtyard decorated with paper lanterns, and numerous back rooms for business and for pleasure. Mei and Kisame would mingle with the guests but keep an eye out for any hints of a disturbance. Tsukasa had been very clear: he wanted Taoka to feel at home, and at home you were safe. The security tonight would be invisible, watchful. And that would be Tsukasa's biggest mistake.

Kisame and Mei entered together, indistinguishable from the other guests save for Kisame's strange coloring. She looped her arm delicately around his and felt him stiffen, but he did not try to pull away in front of others. The effect was instantaneous, just as she'd hoped it would be. Alone, Mei was confident that she was as eye-catching as any other woman here, most of them shipped over in bulk from the larger cities around the country to decorate the room much like the flower arrangements and art on the walls. But walking in with Kisame, the severe contrast made her sparkle. She could feel the eyes on her, and she practically vibrated under all the attention, the power. _This_ was power.

Mei caught sight of Tsukasa talking in hushed tones with some guests. The room was well-lit and tastefully decorated, not too loud. Like most of the men in attendance, he wore a dark suit and had cleaned up crisply. More than twice Mei's age, Tsukasa was nevertheless an attractive man with rich black hair, a goatee, and intense eyes as sharp as his sword, which was sheathed at his hip. The older man he was speaking with caught a glimpse of Mei and stopped to look, disrupting the conversation. Mei's heart raced as she saw her window of opportunity. She pulled Kisame in close and angled up for a quick kiss on the cheek, chaste and soft.

He caught her eye and said under his breath, "Are you finished?"

She smiled like he'd said something sensual and ran her fingers along his lapel. "Just don't keep me waiting too long."

They parted, and as long as everything went according to plan, she would not see him again until their mission was complete. Mei grabbed a champagne flute from a passing server and tapped the delicate glass with a nail as she meandered through the crowd to a lone table near the southern edge of the room. It had a wide view of the room, and she sipped her champagne while she discreetly looked around.

The eyes were still on her, here and there, men both young and old, handsome and ugly, intrigued and longing and lecherous. But Mei did not smile or make eye contact. No one approached. Perhaps they sensed the truth about her. Perhaps they saw her pretty face for the mask it was.

_Cowards, _she thought.

But for a kunoichi on the hunt, hubris is always a virtue. Get enough greedy people together in a room, and she was bound to get lucky. As it turned out, she got lucky with the older man Tsukasa had been speaking with. He approached her like one might approach an exotic caged animal—fascinated and enamored of something strangely gorgeous, but fearless in the presence of the cage that divided them. In this case, the party was the cage between them. Unfortunately for this old man, Mei was not one to stay docile in any cage.

"Hello," he said, setting his whiskey tumbler on the table next to Mei's champagne. "I couldn't help but notice you'd been abandoned."

He had a hooked nose, sharp like a bird of prey's, and a prominent chin. His grey hair was neatly oiled and combed, and the black suit he wore looked right at home on his wiry frame, like he'd been born to wear it. Tranquil blue eyes watched her carefully, unhurried, but they lingered and missed the invisible hooks sinking into him the closer he got.

_Here we go. _

Mei let go of her glass and continued to scan the room, not even sparing the man a glance. "You've got that backwards," she said.

He seemed to find her reply amusing. "I can't blame you. A woman such as yourself has no business associating with a creature such as that."

Mei smiled easily and bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing at him. He had no _idea_. She grabbed her champagne flute. "Excuse me, I must get back to work."

She tried to leave, but he blocked her path, as she suspected he would. Swirling his half-empty glass, he actually looked a little wounded by her dismissal. Oh, this man was good. "Work? I can't imagine a world where a beauty like you would ever have to work for anything."

"Expand your imagination, Noboru. This one works for me."

Tsukasa himself joined them at Mei's small standing table and smiled like he had a secret. He finished off his scotch and set the empty glass on the table. He slipped his hands in the pockets of his pants, and Mei noted the slight bulge in his jacket. A knife, no doubt, but she pushed the thought from her mind and smiled politely. Tsukasa's intense eyes followed her every movement.

"Sir," she said.

"Works for you?" Noboru said, clearly surprised. "Doing what?"

"Security," Mei said. "I like to watch."

Tsukasa rubbed his chin, thinking, as Noboru frowned deeply.

"Is that so?" Noboru asked.

"Mei is shinobi," Tsukasa explained. "I hired her and her partner a few months ago after a...demonstration."

Mei took a sip of her champagne and licked her lips. "And here we are."

"Shinobi?" Noboru looked slightly uncomfortable now. His previous interest had evaporated completely as he did his best not to look at Mei at all. "Ah, how interesting. You don't see many female shinobi for hire."

Mei traded her empty champagne glass for Noboru's half-drunk whisky and ran a finger along the rim. "A shame, really. We're good at what we do."

Tsukasa was not Taoka. He did not maintain a distance with people, for the most part, confident in his own abilities as a swordsman and his intelligence. But his weakness would become Taoka's weakness if Mei played her cards right.

"Noboru, excuse us," Tsukasa said. He did not even give an explanation or an excuse, and his tone brooked no room for argument.

Noboru frowned deeply and abandoned his whiskey as he retreated. _Ran_, Mei liked to think. Run while you can, little man. The monsters are coming.

Alone with Tsukasa, Mei waited for him to reveal what he wanted. He flagged down a server and procured a fresh scotch for himself and another champagne for Mei. She refused it.

"I'm happy to keep up appearances, but you're not paying me to drink," she said.

"No," he allowed, "but I am paying you to watch."

She smiled. "Anything in particular?"

He took a sip of his drink and took her in. It was fast and cursory, and there was something seedy about it. You can't rush a good thing. But Mei pretended to fluff her hair to hide the unpleasant shiver up her spine at his scrutiny.

"Yes," he said, gesturing for her walk ahead of him. "Me."

Mei had to work to keep her calm. Her heart was pounding as she walked ahead of Tsukasa. This was it, and if she fucked it up, she could kiss the mission goodbye. So she held her head high and tried to remember everything she'd learned from Pakura and her years of watching other women in her free time. Bar maids and whores and mothers with children and the pictures in magazines. All women, all the same, divided only by perception.

"_You're a spider," _Pakura had told her.

Spiders are patient. So Mei tried to be patient, to, and concentrated on her gait. Did she look too young? She was young, barely a woman in some circles, though she wore the mask well. Did he believe her? He wouldn't if she didn't believe herself. Mei had always been very confident, and she quashed those child's doubts before they could take root.

Tsukasa led her toward the back rooms, where she knew the real party was happening. The room he unlocked for her had the same yellow-gold wallpaper and mood lighting. Smoke gathered around a table lamp where a big man, a security guard Mei recognized as a lifer, stood watching the connecting door to the enclosed courtyard in the center of the compound. Mei calculated his height, maybe five-eight or five-nine, one-ninety or two hundred pounds easily. A big man, but if she took out his legs first, he'd fall just as hard as the next. These thoughts passed through her head in the blink of an eye, pure instinct, and she had to force herself to remember Tsukasa, the mission.

"Before we go any further," Tsukasa said, setting down his drink and adjusting his belt like a fucking pimp. "I'll need to search you. You understand, of course."

Mei did her best to smile. "Of course. But I'm shinobi. I don't carry weapons when my fists are all I need."

"Shinobi?" the guard said, nervous. "Boss says no shinobi, sir."

"I'm the boss in this town," Tsukasa said, growing impatient. "You answer to me, not Taoka."

The guard at the door swallowed nervously and stared at his feet, cowed. "Yessir," he mumbled.

"Now, about that search," Tsukasa said.

Mei stood very still as he approached and put his hands on her. He smelled like scotch and expensive cologne, and his hands were a little sweaty as he ran them up and down her sides, over her breasts, down her thighs, around her butt, even in her hair. Mei clenched her jaw so hard she thought it might shatter, but she forced herself to stay still even as he took his time. His hands traced every part of her, memorizing her, mapping her, and she wanted nothing more than to give him her special death kiss.

But spiders do not struggle or burn. They wait. The price of beauty is pain. No matter the cost, she can pay it. All the pain in the world cannot stop her.

Tsukasa let his hands come to rest at her hips, fingers digging in like he had plans to settle there, and Mei looked up at him, those intensely dark eyes that could probably spot a lie a mile away. But in her, all he saw was the beauty, the softness, the silk. She took a step towards him until her chest brushed lightly against his.

"I suspect your many...talents...are wasted on duty with the thugs my people hire. I could use a strong woman watching my back. No one ever expects a woman." He twirled some of her hair in his fingers. "Do this right," he whispered, leaning towards her, "and you can do more than just watch."

His fingers dug into her hips and held her against him like she was a sword in need of firm handling. Mei forced herself not to tremble at the feel of him against her thigh. A familiar heat burned in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

"I'd like that," she said, keeping her voice low to stop it from cracking.

"After you," Tsukasa said, releasing her finally.

Mei obeyed and walked past the door guard, who eyed her like she was some kind of disease. She ignored him, more interested in what lay beyond. The courtyard was decorated with paper lanterns along the walls of the compound. A small garden with a large leafy tree stood proudly in the center surrounded by flowers and covered in creeping ivy. A koi pond bubbled in the southeastern corner. Patrons in suits talked amongst themselves, while girls in brightly colored dresses and gaudy jewels hung off their arms and held their drinks. Security lined the courtyard, but these guards did not mingle with the guests or attempt to blend in. Mei counted several possible shinobi among them from their attire and weaponry, along with hired civilian muscle.

_Taoka's personal guard, _she thought to herself.

Sure enough, Taoka himself sat on a bench under the great tree with two of his little brothers, whom Mei recognized from the mission report Ao had given Kisame and her months ago. A stunning woman in a red cocktail dress that matched her hair sat with her heels kicked off and her legs on Taoka's lap. One of his little brothers stood just behind her with a hand in his pocket, a silent threat. If she or anyone else so much as breathed the wrong way around Taoka, he would slice them from navel to nose. The woman was too busy enjoying her drink to worry about threatening the life of her benefactor, though.

Tsukasa led Mei with a hand on the small of her back toward Taoka, but they stayed a good twenty feet away by the perimeter guard. When they approached, one of the guards, a shinobi with a dark mask and hood that hid most of his features, moved to meet them.

"This is as far as you go," Tsukasa said. "Wait for me here, I'll just be a moment."

Mei watched him go, and the shinobi guard he'd left her with eyed her up and down but said nothing. She dared not move to give him any reason to suspect her and did as she was told. Taoka greeted Tsukasa and stood up. Tsukasa bowed deeply and asked if the party was to his liking, was there anything he could do, and any time Taoka wanted to discuss business, he need only say the word. Taoka was an older man with the look of a vulture about him. Shrewd and calculating, he exuded an air of quiet superiority that suffered no fools. Even from a distance, Mei could see a little of why he had become so successful and expanded his illicit underground empire further than any of his predecessors before him.

From the south, the first trickles of night mist began rolling in. It was chilly this time of year at the tail end of winter, and mists in the early mornings or late at night were commonplace in Water Country. But Mei knew that there was nothing natural about this mist. Mangetsu had been right. Teaching others the Hiding in Mist technique had been one of his better ideas. Somewhere far off at the headwaters of this haze, she new Kisame lay in wait. All Mei had to do was hold out until the mists did their job.

Taoka suddenly decided his woman's presence was not required for the rest of his conversation with Tsukasa and roughly shoved her legs off his lap. She yelped in surprise, but quickly shut up when the little brother looming over her grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her away from the bench. When she was a healthy fifteen feet or so clear, he released her and sent her stumbling. Mei watched it all in silence, wondering how this woman, not much older perhaps than Mei herself, had gotten mixed up with dangerous men like these who saw her as nothing more than a commodity, pretty to look at and remorselessly discarded when no longer required. She caught Mei looking and downed the rest of her drink before tossing the glass on the ground to shatter.

"What're you looking at?" she slurred, her pretty eyes dilated and glazed from the effects of alcohol and whatever else was coursing through her bloodstream.

She approached, and Mei said nothing, not wanting to draw attention to herself. The mists had reached her by then and drenched her ankles. The level was slowly rising. When the woman got within a couple feet, Mei fixed her with a glare and a silent warning. The woman stopped.

"Hm?" She blinked at Mei as if to see her better. "Oh." She smiled, and Mei noticed that her lipstick was a little smeared.

"Go away," Mei said, trying to keep her voice down. She could feel the shinobi guard's eyes on her back.

"I don't take orders from whores," the woman snapped.

"I'm not a whore," Mei said before she could stop herself.

The woman seemed to consider this a moment. "Yeah, you are. Everyone's a whore for something." She rubbed her arms for warmth and glared back at Taoka deep in conversation with Tsukasa. "We all need our fix."

The shinobi watching Mei like a hawk shifted behind her, and she had an idea.

"You should sit down," Mei said, taking the woman's arm.

"Hey, don't touch me!" the woman protested.

But she was no match for Mei's strength and sobriety, and Mei manhandled her back toward the koi pond, where there were stone benches overlooking the water. The woman's complaining drew Taoka's and Tsukasa's attention, and Mei could feel their eyes on her. But no one moved to intercept her, and Mei dragged the woman around the courtyard. As they went, Mei made a note of the guards stationed at the perimeter, counting about twenty in total that she could see. At least half were shinobi. When she stole a glance back to where she'd come from, the hooded shinobi was no longer there. She dared not look behind her, knowing he was following from the shadows and would not take his eyes off her. The mists were up to her knees now. Mei forced the woman to sit on one of the empty stone benches and sat down next to her. The woman had begun to cry and sniffle.

"I don't want to sit here," she said.

"You seem like you're used to doing a lot of things you don't want to do," Mei said. "Tell me your name."

"I don't have to tell you anything."

Mei cast about discreetly, making a note of the hooded shinobi now stationed to the east of her position several yards away. He was conversing with another perimeter guard, and she didn't have to hear him to know he was probably telling the guy to keep an eye on her. Mei was not a usual face in this inner circle. The others were looking around at the mist rolling in, and one man with a sword strapped to his back broke from formation and approached the garden where Taoka sat, perhaps to suggest they relocate. Apparently, Taoka agreed because soon he and Tsukasa were walking together around the large tree in the middle of the courtyard, and Mei watched them out of the corner of her eye. Taoka was looking right at her while Tsukasa spoke. Her heartbeat sped up suddenly. If Tsukasa had revealed that she was a shinobi he'd hired, Taoka probably would not like that. The way he was looking at her as they slowly approached made her skin crawl. Mei grabbed the woman's hand and squeezed it tight.

"No, you don't, but I suggest you start putting on a better show if you want to get out of this alive."

The woman stared at her in confusion. "What? You're hurting me."

Mei squeezed harder and leaned close as if to dry the woman's tears, but in reality she observed the shifting guards behind them on the other side of the koi pond. "Whatever you hear, don't move from this spot."

The woman was shaking, sobered by the sudden change in the atmosphere as she picked up on Mei's killing intent so close. Her dark eyes went wide and her lower lip quivered in fear, understanding something on a visceral level about the woman next to her, something Tsukasa had not seen. Perhaps it was the drugs or Taoka's earlier rejection, but either way something stilled the woman and she nodded, tight-lipped.

"Rika," the woman said. "M-My name."

The fog began rising off the koi pond and rolling across the courtyard, feeding the miasma. The mist rose rapidly as Taoka and Tsukasa approached, flanked by three more of Taoka's little brothers who dispersed the other guests toward the compound to make way. The mist was up to their chests by now.

"Gag now, Rika," Mei ordered, forcing the woman to double over on the bench below the level of the haze.

Rika complied, shaking with fear, and let her tears fall freely. It was convincing, Mei would give her that. Mei patted her back as if to reassure and, ducked below the mist, opened her mouth to spit out another wave of mist to mingle with the rest, only this one was laced with her own chakra. Taoka and Tsukasa stopped several yards away, and Taoka said something to one of his little brothers as the mist rose above their heads. Mei tapped Rika's back and rose.

"Stay," she said softly.

Rika stayed hunched over and hid her face in her hands. The guests began complaining about the mist as it hid them from sight and soaked them through their party clothes. Mei slipped out of her high heels and abandoned them by the bench. Silent as death, she slipped through the mists like a snake and counted the bodies buffeted by her chakra haze. They were converging in groups of two, and she could hear the sounds of steel scraping against leather as swords were drawn. Someone barked an order to herd everyone inside. It was the hooded shinobi who had been watching Mei before.

She crept toward him, crouched, and parted the mists at the last minute just as she was upon him. He tried to yell and made a grab at her face, but she caught his wrist and twisted until it broke. She opened her mouth and released a blast of acidic mist directly into his open mouth, a kiss of death, and watched as his knees gave out with a strangled croak. Her poison worked fast, melting the skin off his face and his eyeballs in their sockets, rotting his tongue and gums as it snaked down his throat to blenderize his stomach. Mei gently lowered him to the ground, wary at the sounds he'd made, and forced her shaking hands to move fast. She pilfered a lone curved kunai from his vest and wielded it backhand as she rose off of him and sidled back into the mists.

It wasn't long before someone came looking, another guard, this one a civilian on steroids more than twice her size. Mei didn't give him more time than it took to swear in shock at the sight of his comrade literally stewing in his own juices on the ground. She leaped onto his back and slid her stolen kunai across his throat. His blood was hot as it splashed her fingers and the tapering sleeve of her dress. The mists swirled around Mei as she rose over the guard's corpse like a reaper here to collect her souls owed. Not far, she heard Rika whimpering and doing her best to stay as still and silent as possible.

Mei moved, and it was not long before she began to hear shouts. Someone had found one of the bodies she'd left in her wake and called for everyone to stay together, get inside, there was an assassin in their midst. Mei did not slow as she meandered through the mists and came upon another shinobi guard. This one had a sword and saw her at the last minute, but he was fast and forced her to parry with her kunai. The clang of metal on metal drew shouts, and Mei knew she had to deal with this guy fast. He slashed with his blade and caught her in the thigh, ripping her dress and her flesh and spilling blood. Mei caught the blade with her kunai and shoved her weight into it as she performed a few hand seals with her free hand. He was inches from her face as she leveraged her weight against him and took her acid at point-blank range. Boiling chakra covered his face and chest like a second skin, siphoning his strength and sending him stumbling backwards as he tried to wipe the stuff from his face. His fingers melted to the bone the moment they made contact with the acidic steam. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Mei wiped her lips and ignored the pain in her thigh as survival instinct kicked in. The paper lanterns cast eerie white deadlights through the fog, doorways to another dimension where beasts reigned over men. Footsteps were approaching. She came face to face with one of the women, who was stumbling around blind trying to get to safety. She screamed as soon as she saw Mei standing over the smoking remains of her latest victim. Panic took hold, and Mei manipulated the mists to hide her from sight as she retreated. The woman was hysterical as she sobbed and shrieked at the charred remains of the shinobi Mei had boiled to death.

Unfortunately, her shouting drew others, and before Mei knew what was happening, her body moved to avoid a deadly downward sword thrust. Her thigh screamed in pain as she rolled and landed on all fours like a feral animal, teeth bared at her attacker. Tsukasa, who had drawn his katana, looked down at her in shock. His surprise quickly morphed to fury, and he brandished his katana at her. Two shinobi guards flanked him, also armed.

"You," Tsukasa spat. "How dare you betray me. I _accepted _you!"

"You violated me," Mei said, getting to her feet. "I'm here to return the favor."

"Bitch!" Tsukasa slashed with his katana, and he was damn fast.

Mei had spent years training with Ganryū, and she had come a long way with a blade, but she was no swordsman herself. With the other two shinobi helping him out, three against one was no walk in the park. Mei retreated as quickly as she could and spat out a stream of molten lava at the earth. The bright magma glowed and evaporated the mists surrounding it, and one of the shinobi guards accompanying Tsukasa swore.

"What the fuck is that?!"

Tsukasa stared at Mei like she'd grown scales and transformed into a demon. It was the last sight she saw of him as the mists converged once more and swallowed her from sight. She backed up, trying to stay silent and regroup. The target was Taoka, not Tsukasa.

She felt the new chakra signature sneaking up on her through the mist, and she whirled with her kunai. A dark figure materialized in the haze, an eidolon born of mist and shadow risen from some dark terrible hell, silent. Mei held her breath, her throat burning with the effects of her boiling chakra, but the figure took a shape she recognized and loomed over her. Mei opened her mouth, but he silenced her with a finger on her lips. His thumb wiped cooled lava from her bottom lip as he pulled her close, and she was transported back years into the past on a dreary morning when he'd had her back for the first time. His nodachi was balanced expertly in his free hand and dripping blood. He'd been busy.

"Mei!" Tsukasa shouted. "My men are everywhere! You can't escape!"

Mei fisted her bloody hand in Kisame's white button-down shirt, leaving a messy handprint in the fabric. He dropped his hand to her waist and silently maneuvered her behind him. Remembering herself, Mei tugged on his shirt again and held up three fingers. He nodded and stalked forward, blade first.

It happened fast. Mei shifted the mists as she searched for Tsukasa and his goons, and Kisame moved beside her like a wraith, so quiet for someone so large and scary looking. Mei found the first shinobi guard and was on him so fast he didn't know what hit him. She sank her kunai into the base of his skull and dragged, severing the brainstem, while she held him close like a lover might. His gasp of terror alerted Tsukasa and his other guard, and they came charging through the mist. Mei removed her kunai just as Tsukasa slashed with his katana, fueled by rage, but Kisame flickered in front of her like an apparition and caught his sword easily. Tsukasa gaped, but soon remembered himself.

"Motherfucker," he spat. "You _planned_ this!"

Kisame bared his sharp teeth in a grin and expertly deflected Tsukasa's sword. The other shinobi guard with Tsukasa tried to intervene, but Mei flew through hand seals and redirected the mist. It swirled around him and dropped to dangerously acidic levels. He convulsed as the fog ate away at his skin, dissolving it down to the bloody muscles and tendons beneath. Screaming, he tried to rub his arms and face and neck to rid himself of the poisonous gas, but it was in the very air around him. He breathed it in in his fright and began to foam at the mouth. Mei watched from behind her final hand seal, teeth clenched, while Kisame fended off Tsukasa.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with!" Tsukasa said as he parried Kisame's slashes shockingly well for a civilian. He was fast, and he managed to cut Kisame's bicep through his white shirt, drawing blood and inflating his confidence.

"That's my line," Kisame said just as he performed a swift swallow cut, two lightning-fast slashes that sliced Tsukasa's belly open and spilled his entrails.

Tsukasa never even saw Kisame coming. He gagged and fell to his knees, dropping his katana and clutching at his tattered middle bleeding out on the dewy grass. He blinked up at Kisame and Mei towering over him, but his words escaped him. Against a Legendary Swordsman, a chosen one raised on the razor's edge of a blade, he never stood a chance. Tsukasa slumped and fell to his side in the grass, his blood black and glossy under the diffuse lantern light through the mist. Kisame did not bother cleaning his blade. And that was how Taoka found them. He and five other men all armed to the teeth.

"Who are you?" he asked as his men surrounded him and prepared to fight.

"The party crashers," Kisame said, grinning. "We're here to collect our party favor."

"You can't be mercenaries. No one pays better than I do," Taoka continued like he hadn't heard Kisame. "...So you must be Mist nin."

"Yagura sends his regards," Mei said, brandishing her bloody kunai.

"I'll be sure to send him mine. Kill them."

The shinobi protecting Taoka lunged, and one of them let loose a devastating column of fire that evaporated the mist in its path. Kisame reacted quickly and channeled his chakra into a single hand seal. The remaining mist in the courtyard rushed to do his bidding and combined into a cataclysmic wave of water that swept over the enemy shinobi and doused the fire in one gulp. One managed to jump to safety and fired off a lightning bolt directly at Kisame, which he attempted to block with his nodachi. But the thunder was potent, and it jumped from the water to his blade and the arm holding it, electrocuting him where he stood.

"Kisame!" Mei shouted, already running to intervene.

But incredibly, Kisame remained on his feet and lunged at the last shinobi in his way. The guy was so taken aback by Kisame's inhuman resilience that he was too slow to defend properly and suffered a downward cut that sliced his left arm off at the shoulder. Howling, he fell to the ground, and Kisame twisted his sword around and brought it down through the enemy's heart, silencing him. Sparks jumped over Kisame's arms and drew angry welts upon his skin, but he seemed above the pain as he twisted his nodachi deeper into the shinobi's convulsing body.

Taoka had fallen to his rear and was trying his best to get away, but Mei caught up to him and cornered him at the great tree in the middle of the courtyard. Without the mists for cover anymore, the movement inside of security guards regrouping and heading for them was hard to ignore. They needed to end this fast. Kisame joined her on heavy feet, all but oblivious to the pain he must surely be in. His nodachi dripped fresh blood on the grass as he loomed over Taoka.

"Monster," Taoka spat, the shrewd business persona gone and replaced now with a regular man, no braver or better than any other, reduced to the sum of his meaty parts.

Kisame gripped his sword tighter and advanced, but Mei was faster this time. She crouched down in front of Taoka and took his chin in her bloody hand, forcing him to look at her. Even bloodied and soaking wet, she was a sight to behold. She could see it in his eyes, that flicker of relief, the hope that she would show him mercy like the angel she appeared to be. She leaned close, her painted nails digging into the stubble of his cheeks, and smiled in the way that made most men's toes curl.

"He's not the monster," she whispered, dragging her kunai lightly up his chest, teasing. "I am."

Before Taoka could react, she dragged the kunai across his throat savagely, opening his windpipe and the engorged carotid artery that kept him going. His blood splattered over her chest and middle and sprayed her face. Taoka's expression was stretched in a silent scream as those dead eyes watched her, saw her for the first time.

Mei dug her kunai in deeper, cutting and soiling her beautiful dress further as she sawed through muscle and bone until Taoka's head popped off. She rose and held it up by the hair. Only then did she notice Kisame still standing there, staring at her with a glint in his eyes she'd never seen before. There was a darkness there, a kind of controlled madness that clawed to come out, and he was only holding it back by a thread. Mei shivered, and her breath caught in her throat.

Shouts and footsteps closed in on them, and all of a sudden Kisame snapped out of whatever trance he'd been in and sheathed his sword. "Time to go," he said, turning and taking off at full sprint.

Mei did not need to be told twice. She took off after him, light on her bare feet. Rika had not moved from her spot on the bench, though now she was curled up in the fetal position and too frightened even to sob. Her eyes followed Mei as she ran, dragging Taoka's head along with her. Mei barely felt the ache in her thigh were one of the enemy shinobi had cut her open as she ran, her only thought on making it out of here with Kisame in one piece, their mission complete. Taoka's hair was slick with blood between her fingers, and his clammy cheek slapped against her thigh as she ran. All those months spent waiting, biding their time, all until this night when finally, they would be in Taoka's vicinity, close enough to strike, and Mei had his head to prove it.

Her feet were numb on the night grass, and she cut her soles on sharp pebbles in the dirt, but she never slowed, her eyes on Kisame's back as he led her to safety. The shouts behind them grew fainter as Tsukasa's and Taoka's bodies were discovered, the truth of what had transpired sinking in. No, they would not have many pursuers tonight, if any. Whoever—_what_ever had done this to all those men was not worth the effort.

Mei ran, and she had never felt so alive in her life. The wind lifted her like a bird in flight, filled her hair, chilled her flushed cheeks, dried the blood spatter down her front. And maybe it was the madness of the Bloody Mist, branded to her soul like Yagura had branded her in that genjutsu so many years ago. Maybe they were all a little mad to have endured, to have survived, to live among monsters and still remember how to smile. Mei smiled now, exhilarated and powerful and proud. Oh, the _look _in his eyes when he saw what she truly was! What she could become the longer she stayed...

They ran for miles back to the little cabin in the middle of nowhere that nobody knew existed. When Kisame finally slowed down, Mei could not believe they had already arrived. She could not feel her injuries, her exhaustion. There was only the rush, and she was not ready for it to end. The young and the beautiful and the powerful are never ready for it to end.

The cabin was dark when Kisame opened the door and went inside. He didn't bother with the lights. The moon was bright in the sky and the stars were brighter, and they bathed the one-room cabin in a pearlescent haze not unlike the mists he'd conjured earlier this night to give her cover. His shirt was soiled with the blood of the enemy, and she could make out her red handprint in his collar when he'd come to her in the shadows.

Mei still held Taoka's severed head. The blood dripping slowly from the neck was the only sound in the still cabin as she stood there, still vibrating with heady adrenaline. Kisame drew his nodachi, caked with Tsukasa's blood, and set it on the small kitchen table. The sight of it made Mei's stomach flutter as she remembered how he'd driven it through Tsukasa's middle, effortless and beautiful. A true master among men.

Kisame was looking at her like he had under the tree when she'd sawed off Taoka's head, and for the life of her she couldn't breathe right. She was sure she would float away on the night breeze, light as a moonbeam, with the way he was looking at her. She knew that look. Not because she'd seen it before, no, never quite like this, never this powerful, but because her soul understood it on a visceral level, something beyond instinct and feeling that resonated in the deepest part of her. She had drawn something out of him, somehow, something he'd kept secret and slumbering until this night. No one had ever seen him like this before, she knew it instinctively.

Mei dropped Taoka's head on the floor, and it rolled onto its side. "How's that for a kid?" she said.

Like hypnosis or black magic, her voice broke the spell, and suddenly he was moving, _shifting_, rather. The moonlight bent to allow him passage as he closed the distance between them and scooped her up. Mei barely had time to catch her breath before his mouth was on hers in the meanest, most brutal kiss she would ever receive in her life. It was earth-moving, stormy and full-body, like he was trying to devour not just her body, but the part of her that she kept secret and slumbering, too.

He lifted her by the thighs, his scarred fingers disturbing her wound and sending an electric jolt of pain up her spine. But she hardly cared and wrapped her legs around his waist as she tugged open his shirtfront, ripping buttons from their seams and sending his silver cufflinks clattering to the floor. His sharp teeth cut her lip in their hurry, and she gasped, but it only fueled whatever frenzy had awakened within him. Mei pulled herself higher upon him and dug her fingers into his short blue hair, tugging hard enough to hurt, and he dragged those grinning lips down her neck, uncaring that some of Taoka's blood had seeped through her dress and dried on her skin. If anything, it only made him more zealous.

"Kisame," she whispered like it was the hardest thing in the world to produce any coherent sound at all. Through the haze of him, she spotted the narrow double bed in the corner of the room.

But he did not take her there. Instead he shoved her against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of her and tore at the long slitted skirt of her dress. Out of breath and barely able to move between the wall and him, she dug her painted nails into his shoulders and focused on feeling, skin on skin, the light of the moon on his bare back criss-crossed with old lash scars from the Academy days, the mist on their skin mingled with sweat and the blood of their enemies.

He was fast, and soon there was nothing between them as he pulled her down on top of him. Mei laid her head back against the wall and tried to see the moon through the window, but there were only stars in her eyes as he found his brutal rhythm with her. He moved a hand to her hip to keep her in place right where he wanted her, and she thought of Tsukasa's fingers bruising her in the same place. She opened her mouth to laugh, laugh because he was _dead_, the filthy gremlin, but all she could do was cry out as Kisame pulled her under again, again, _again_, and she held on and wondered if this was what it was like to die.

_Kill me again_, she desperately wanted to say.

But he heard her, those thoughts that accidentally escaped her bloody lips in the heat of passion, and he shook beneath her, driven mad at the sound of her voice. Like a siren, a creature of myth and legend feared by any who hear them sing, young or old. A beautiful monster, and he could not get enough of her. She raked her nails over the scars on his back, past the electric burns on his arms, and held on for the end, the merciless storm waves that wrecked and destroyed her, both of them, and he buried his face in her hair, surrounded by her.

They stayed like that, crushed together against the wall and each other, for a few long languid moments, remembering how to breathe. Slowly, his grip on her loosened and she moved her hands to his face, laced her fingers through his damp hair. He had his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. Slowly, so she wouldn't surprise him, Mei ran her thumbs over the dark tattoos on his temples. They were slightly ridged, as though they had been carved into his skin rather than merely inked. Kisame opened his eyes and found her there, quiet and smiling a little. The blood on her lip glistened in the moonlight and drew his gaze.

"Kisame," she said softly, unsure where to go from here. He was warm within her, and she missed his bruising hands already.

He did not speak, but he lifted his face and caught her in another kiss, this one slow and simmering as he ran his tongue over her split lip. Mei shuddered against him, and he shifted to separate them. He lowered her to the floor, tiptoes first, and slowly broke the kiss. The rush was gone, the power along with it, the spell a distant memory. But he was still here watching her from the shadows, and for the second time that night she saw something she'd never seen before. It was quiet, smoldering, powerful in a different way, but the power wasn't hers this time.

Kisame touched his thumb to her lower lip, which was no longer bleeding. Tender, not like he regretted it, but like he wanted to treasure it before it was gone. He was always so tender when he touched the source of her power, reverent. So different than when he'd first kissed her, looking to die. "We should go," he said, his voice hoarse and hushed. "They'll come looking for this place soon enough."

Mei nodded. "Okay."

He kept her there just a moment longer, lingering, and finally pulled away and adjusted his pants. Mei didn't bother with her dress, stripping out of it entirely and heading for the small bathroom to blast the shower for a few seconds. Taoka's blood and hers swirled down the small drain, but in the darkness she could not see it. She was out, dried, and changed into her standard Jōnin gear in under five minutes. She tied a simple tourniquet around her thigh to keep it from splitting open again on the run, nothing fancy. Kisame had bagged Taoka's head and gathered the few things they had brought with them into light knapsacks. When Mei was done with the bathroom, he quickly followed her example and rinsed the blood from his skin in the shower for a few seconds. The cuts in his shoulders she'd made bled a little through his fresh Jōnin shirt when he changed. Silent, they grabbed their things and the bag with Taoka's head, and they were running over the moon-bathed moors toward home.

The lonely cabin shrank on the horizon behind them into darkness as they melted into the morning mists, taking their secrets with them.

* * *

_I think I'm a hundred years overdue for a Why I Ship KisaMei meta post or something, although this chapter pretty much covers it..._

_Continuing my gradual return to Naruto stuff, I'll be continuing this fic and posting new updates on a regular (but probably not particularly fast) basis. This story is huge and one of the ones I always wished I could see finished because this is Mei's story, and she is just beyond words amazing to me. So I'm going to do my best. _

_If you're still reading this after all these years, thank you so much for sticking around! Seriously, I love you guys. And welcome if you've just picked this up. I have this story planned through the end of the fourth war, so there is a lot of material to cover. Reviews and such keep me motivated, so please feel free to leave one on your way out! I so love hearing from you lovely readers._


	7. Monster

**Chimera, Chapter 7: Monster  
**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto

* * *

Kisame stiffly stood in the spacious top floor office reserved for the Mizukage's exclusive use. He had never been in here before, which he found odd considering the many years since he'd begun working under Fuguki, who answered directly to Yagura himself. He had the sudden urge to laugh. His laughter, Kisame had found, had a queer effect on people. You never knew what you were going to get, and he'd seen it all.

With Zabuza and the other Swordsmen, laughter tended to breed more laughter, though their amusement was of the blacker kind. With most others, even a mere grin from the likes of Kisame elicited anything from full-body tremors to tears. One target he'd had about a year ago had actually shit himself when he saw a grinning Kisame unsheathe his nodachi nice and slow. And with Mei, laughter was usually met with scowls or insults. She never liked to be laughed at, least of all by him. But she was too easy to get a rise out of, as he'd told her many times over the years. Too predictable, too arrogant, too _easy_ that way. Mei, however, was the only person he'd ever known who actually smiled at his laughter. It was rare and only when the laughter wasn't at her expense, but he remembered that smile clearly. Kisame had never seen anyone smile like she could when she really wanted to dazzle, least of all in his vicinity.

_Fucking weird. _

Fuguki was saying something, and Kisame stopped daydreaming like a goddamned beginner and paid attention.

"There are six," Fuguki explained. "I have their locations marked here." He indicated the map of Water Country and the surrounding lands splayed on Yagura's wide desk.

Kisame followed his master's direction, but something on Yagura's desk drew his particular interest. A jar filled with greasy green formaldehyde sat at the head of the desk. Inside floated a severed head, preserved well enough but blackened around the eyes and curling at the neck. Kisame recognized the head as that of the former drug kingpin, Kazuo Taoka. Mei had sawed it off with nothing but a kunai, and together they'd brought it back to Yagura giftwrapped in a sack as proof of their success. That had been well over a year ago, the start of Kisame's unofficial partnership with Mei, both personal and professional. Kisame had always heard about Yagura's penchant for keeping mementos of his conquests, relics to enshrine his power for all to see. There had been no major problems with Taoka's now divided syndicate since his demise.

Yagura peered at the map Fuguki had marked, his eyes glassy as he pressed his lips together and scratched his fingers. Kisame's gaze was drawn to the fidgety movement, and he wondered at how young Yagura looked, almost cherubic for a man twice Kisame's age. There was something creepily child-like about Yagura now despite the heavy atmosphere in his office that made Kisame's hair stand on end. Not innocent, but rather skittish, maybe even nervous.

"Six undercover spies," Ao said, his hands on the edges of the desk as he studied the map. "All from Stone?"

Fuguki nodded. "Got their descriptions and aliases here. Last known addresses, known associates, everything." He produced a scroll from his sleeve and set it down on the desk. It was protected by a powerful seal and stamped with the Cypher Division's crest.

The Cypher Division was Mist's covert intelligence agency tasked with acquiring foreign secrets as well as protecting Mist's own. Fuguki led the division, a team of about twenty shinobi and tacticians. As his student, Kisame was also assigned to the Cypher Division whenever he wasn't carrying out assassinations with Mei. Kisame had learned over the years that he had a flair for harvesting information from unwilling informants. As it turned out, there were only so many times a man could drown and be resuscitated until he finally broke and bared his soul. And Kisame was a patient guy. He liked to watch. Fuguki had lauded him as his most promising mentee in years.

"That's quite the discovery," Ao went on. "Six covert agents hiding in our midst? Intelligence like that doesn't come by frequently or easily."

"I have my ways," Fuguki said.

Ao studied the much larger Fuguki through his lone visible eye, nonplussed. "Even so, this is quite a lot more than much of what your division has brought us in the past."

Kisame glanced at Fuguki, but he said nothing. The big man had come to him and the other Cypher Division shinobi earlier today announcing that his sources had brought him something big, the break they'd been waiting for. No one knew where he got the information, but then, Cypher Division was not known for sharing secrets as a rule. The other members of the task force were no less forthcoming with their own informants or sources. Ao, however, did not look totally convinced.

"The information is good, I guarantee it," Fuguki said, crossing his arms.

Laughter sounded from the dark corner of Yagura's office, where the Legendary Swordsman Kushimaru Kuriarare leaned against the wall in his ghastly Hunter's mask. A long thin blade that looked more like a super-sized needle than any traditional sword hung from his bony hip, and a shock of straw hair covered his head like a lion's mane. If he hadn't made a sound, he could have passed for a ghoulish scarecrow looming in the shadows.

"You always did know the price of good information, Fuguki," Kushimaru said.

Fuguki scowled at his fellow Swordsman. Strapped to his back, the great demon sword Samehada was covered in bandages and wriggled slightly. Kisame eyed the strange sword, having always been drawn to its sentience. It was no ordinary sword, not even in the same league as Kushimaru's Nuibari. Samehada was a beast in its own right, a relic from another land beyond the reach of man. No one actually knew where the sword had come from or who had forged it. Fuguki, three sheets to the wind and counting, once told him a story about a great smith who had sacrificed one hundred sharks, harvested their teeth, and melded them together in his kiln to craft the sword. Whether it was just another of the many stories surrounding the mysterious sword, there was one thing everyone agreed upon. Samehada was the oldest and the most powerful of all the Legendary Swords.

Samehada squirmed in its wrappings like a child trying to struggle free of its mother's suffocating embrace. The longer Kisame watched it, the louder he heard the hissing sound it made, like a venomous serpent calling to its kin to free it from its cage. He had the sudden irresistible urge to touch Samehada, to rip free the bindings that entrapped it and feel its teeth, the sword that flayed skin and bone instead of merely cutting it.

"Kushimaru," Yagura said, scratching the side of his neck like he needed to dig his fingers into something. "You and Jinpachi will eliminate these three in the north." He indicated three marked spots on the map.

"What? With _that _shit stain? No way," Kushimaru protested.

"You will," Yagura said, turning on the tall Swordsman. "And you'll return with their heads."

Yagura's single luminous green eye seemed to flash despite the shadows the filled his office with the curtains drawn. Kushimaru's face was hidden, but he placed a hand on his blade and nodded. "Of course, Lord Yagura. But if I kill him for getting on my nerves, don't hold it against me."

"As long as you bring Shibuki back," Yagura said.

Ao tensed as he looked between Yagura and Kushimaru, his jaw set and his knuckles white. Kisame observed him in silence, wondering. You would think a veteran Hunter like Ao was _used _to this by now.

_Pussy._

"Go," Yagura dismissed Kushimaru. "Don't come back until it's done."

Kushimaru chuckled to himself at some unheard joke and saluted. "Aye aye, Boss."

"And the other three?" Ao asked.

Yagura tensed and shot Ao a look like he'd forgotten the aging Hunter was there at all. He wrung his hands discreetly. "Kisame will go."

Kisame just watched his lord and leader, amused. For a while there, he was sure Yagura had not even seen him standing there next to Fuguki's intimidating girth. "Sir," he said in his usual gravelly purr. "And Mei?"

Yagura twisted to look directly at Kisame, and despite the man's slim stature and innocuous child-like appearance, Kisame felt his shoulders stiffen as he suppressed a shiver. That green eye of Yagura's seemed to see the deepest part of him, the part he held hostage from the rest of the world. He knew the tales, just as all Mist nin did. Yagura's body was a vessel for a demon, a monster of nightmares and unimaginable power. How did one person survive a living nightmare and remain sane? Maybe they didn't.

_Maybe that's the secret._

Yagura smiled, and Kisame had an ironic brush of déjà-vu as he wondered if this was what his victims felt just before he cut them open. "Yes. Mei, too. I've quite enjoyed the fruits of your partnership."

Kisame did not trust his voice, so he simply nodded. Taoka's head in the jar seemed to stare at him through the tinted glass like it knew what he was thinking, pitying him.

"Go," Yagura all but growled as he showed his guests his back and moved to the window. "I want this done as soon as possible."

Kisame bowed, and Fuguki gathered up the map he'd marked, unwilling to leave any evidence behind. You never knew who might be watching and stumble upon something they should not. They filed out, Kushimaru leading the way.

"You too, Ao," Yagura said.

"My lord, there are still things to discuss," Ao began.

"_Out_!" Yagura hissed.

Kisame was out the door and did not catch the rest of the heated exchange. He didn't think much of it, either, not really caring one way or the other. Yagura was a Mizukage to be feared and respected. But Ao was the head Hunter nin. To be expelled so violently... Kisame put the thought from his mind when he and Fuguki made it outside and stood side by side on the street. Kushimaru was already long gone. Their mission started now.

"Good hunting, Kisame," Fuguki said, shouldering Samehada higher across his back.

The demonic sword wriggled and made a scraping-chewing noise that sounded a little like laughter to Kisame's ears. He rubbed his ear and tried to put the thought out of his mind.

"I'll return as soon as I can," Kisame said respectfully.

"See that you do."

He turned to leave, but Fuguki called to him once more.

"That woman you're always with," he said. "Terumī."

Kisame paused. "Yes?"

"You trust her?"

Kisame thought about this. Trust was not something he offered to anyone, never had and probably never would. Not really. Trust was for the weak and the desperate and the ignorant. Kisame was none of those things. There were different kinds of trust, anyway. To watch his back in a fight, Kisame supposed he could trust Mei. She'd never let him down before. With his secrets? Well, he didn't tell her all his secrets. The ones she did know, well... She hadn't run from him yet.

"_Kill me again."_

He ran his tongue over his teeth, loving the smoothness and the sharpness of them as he remembered how she'd sounded that first night they'd been together. _Trusting_, for lack of a better word. "More than most," he said.

Fuguki nodded. "Fine. Just complete the mission. This will be buried as soon as you're finished." Meaning, of course, that failure was not an option, and loose ends were to be taken out with the trash.

With that, Fuguki left Kisame to his task and stalked off, probably to reconvene with the Cypher Division and plan their next move. You could never tell by looking at him all but waddle down the street under all that girth and the weight of Samehada, but Fuguki was a sharp man, shrewd and suspicious and ruthlessly loyal to the Bloody Mist. Kisame had once seen him rip a subordinate's head off with his bare hands when Fuguki found out the young Chuunin was leaking intel to his favorite local whore. Pillow talk was too much talk even within the confines of the village, and Fuguki was never one to suffer a leaky pipe in the system. He'd brought Kisame along to the whorehouse afterwards and drove a dagger through the whore's throat, and then he'd ordered Kisame to take care of the rest.

"_Even a trickling pipe'll flood the whole house eventually if you let it be. So what do you do? Plug the hole? No, of course not. Once you got a leaky pipe, you got it forever. No, a patch job's no good. Tear the whole clusterfuck down, though, and you can fill it with shiny new pipes," _he'd said like he was telling Kisame about the outfit he'd picked out to wear that day. _"Yagura likes his little souvenirs, but I'm not so sentimental."_

So Kisame took the east wing and Fuguki took the west wing, and together they put all the leaky whores to the sword one by one, young and old, male and female. One young girl with eyes like the sea and the kind of lips you wanted to bruise pleaded with him to have mercy, she'd done nothing wrong, she just wanted to live. Kisame had run her through the stomach and watched as her pretty face warped in agony and despair. Why should she get to live when the others could not? There was no logic to her plea, only self-serving greed. He would not dishonor the others he'd killed before he found her by sparing her.

Kisame slowly surfaced from the recent memory, only a few months old, and realized he was standing alone on the sidewalk just outside the Mizukage's offices. Right, he had somewhere to be. He needed to find Mei and start this mission. No time to waste. It was midday, but he did not think to check the Terumī clan compound. She was hardly ever there. Perhaps she was with that virago Ameyuri. Kisame had never cared for Ameyuri, too loud and quick to anger and brash. But she was damn good with the sword, he'd give her that. Good enough to be the only female of the Seven Swordsmen while he still languished as an apprentice in the Cypher Division.

"_Your time will come,"_ Mei had told him time and again over the years.

Kisame frowned and pushed the thought from his mind. Even Zabuza had a new purpose in training up the boy he'd found during a routine cull in the badlands. Haku or something, the boy with ice in his veins. He was doing well at the Academy, if Kisame recalled. Any day now and he would make his first sanctioned graduation kill and join Yagura's growing army. Even little Suigetsu, now four, had just entered the Academy to begin his formal training. Time, it seemed, caught up to them all inevitably. No matter. Kisame was a patient man, always had been. But time was not his particular problem. There could only ever be seven Swordsmen.

He was lost in thought walking through the damp streets. It was an overcast day. The grey clouds dispersed the hidden sun and cast a smoky tint upon the village. Dreary days like this when the humidity was thick and the spring chill lingered were some of his favorite in Mist. He could have enjoyed a day at the beach just watching the cold waters, waiting for a storm to roll in. Today was not such a day, however.

Kisame wandered the village, stopping briefly at the training grounds, but Mei was nowhere to be found. He tried the docks, but no luck. What a sight he must have made, wandering the streets in search of a woman like a lost puppy. He chuckled to himself. She'd like that, he thought. Another secret to keep to himself. He had made it to the edge of the village by then still emptyhanded, but he heard a familiar voice just beyond the last row of houses at the edge of the thin trees.

"You look like you survived a war," said Harusame. "What on earth happened?"

Harusame was an older man with thick spectacles and long mustachios. A respected shinobi in Mist and all of Water Country in his day, he had served as an advisor to the Third Mizukage before Yagura. Now he spent his days bent over books in the library archives about everything from the village history to secret ninja techniques. Kisame had become acquainted with him over the years in Harusame's capacity as an infrequent advisor to the Cypher Division.

"It doesn't matter," said Utakata, Harusame's only student. "I got it."

Utakata handed Harusame a dirty scroll sealed with chakra. He indeed looked like he'd survived a hard battle. His attractive face was smeared with dirt and blood, his Jōnin flak vest was charred and ripped in places, and his pants bore blood splatter that may or may not have been his. Kisame watched from the corner just out of sight behind the last dwelling on the block, curiosity piqued. Utakata was a dear friend of Mei's and a Jinchuuriki besides. Kisame had seen them together often when they were children, outcasts drawn to one another out of loneliness, or perhaps something more sinister. Kisame never spoke about Mei or what had been transpiring between them since the Taoka mission to anyone, but he knew Utakata and Mei's other friends knew. Not that it mattered. It was none of their business, and Kisame had never cared much for gossip. When you were the only person in your hometown with blue skin, you learned to tune it all out. He supposed Utakata, of all people, could probably sympathize.

Harusame took the scroll and examined it carefully. His jowls shook as he sputtered for words. "I... This was _not _your mission!"

Utakata looked taken aback. "But Master, you said this scroll had information important to Mist and it couldn't fall into the wrong hands."

"I know what I said!" Harusame hissed to keep his voice down. "I asked you to scope out the thieves' encampment and report back. Are you telling me you engaged them alone?"

"Of course, what was I supposed to do? We can't let thieves get away with village secrets. I did what I had to do."

Harusame snapped and suddenly smacked Utakata across his pretty-boy face too fast to avoid. For an old man, he still moved like a true shinobi when he wanted to. Utakata was stunned into silence as he brought a hand to his abused cheek and gaped at Harusame.

"Foolish boy," Harusame said, shaking a little. "You could have _died_!"

Remembering himself, Utakata let his hand fall and let his anger show. "You're reprimanding me for a job well-done?"

"You disobeyed my orders entirely, and you put yourself at great risk."

Utakata clenched his fists. "I see. You're afraid they could have taken me alive and sold me to the highest bidder."

Kisame licked his lips, now _very _curious. It was common knowledge that Utakata hosted the demonic slug Saiken, a fine prize for any rival ninja village to get their hands on.

Harusame shook his head. "No that's not it."

"Then what?" Utakata demanded, seething.

Kisame could not be sure, but he could have sworn he detected a sinister red glow emanating from Utakata's back like a shadow trying to exorcise itself from him.

Harusame took Utakata's hand in his and dropped the top-secret scroll on the ground like it was nothing but a soiled napkin. "There will always be another mission, but there is only one of you." Harusame looked up at his taller student, imploring him to listen. "Utakata, your life is precious."

The sinister aura surrounding Utakata slowly dissipated, leaving him looking haggard for his eighteen years. There was a stretch of silence between the two men as Utakata stared openly, perhaps disbelieving of what he'd heard.

"What?" he said, almost timid.

Harusame patted Utakata's hand in between his and smiled like a grandfather, so different from his earlier display of inhuman force and speed. "Go and rest. We'll talk again later." He bent to pick up the scroll, valuable information that could have fetched a high price from the right enemy, and pocketed it.

Utakata remained there as Harusame left, silent and lost in thought. He rubbed his arms for warmth and swallowed hard. Kisame took that as his cue and revealed himself.

"Trouble in paradise?" Kisame asked, grinning and watching for a reaction.

Utakata stiffened and dropped his hands to the pockets of his pants, where he undoubtedly concealed weapons on his person. "Kisame," he said coldly. "What're you doing here?"

"Looking for Mei. You seen her?"

Utakata ignored the question. "How long have you been standing there?"

Kisame shrugged. "Long enough."

He could practically taste the anger and embarrassment Utakata emanated at having been caught in such a vulnerable moment. He smiled wider, but bravely resisted the urge to lick his lips.

"I haven't seen Mei. I just returned from a mission," Utakata said.

For as long as Kisame had known him, Utakata had always been courteous, some might even say charming, even when confronted with an uncomfortable person or situation. He had to be. Anger..._did _things to him. But it didn't take a genius to pick up on Utakata's chilly dislike for Kisame. Ever since he found out about Kisame and Mei, well... Perhaps he didn't like the idea of the person he cared about most being with a monster. That thought nearly made Kisame burst out laughing. The _irony_, though.

Utakata misread the reason for Kisame's fleeting amusement. "I'm relieved you find so much joy in matters that don't concern you."

Kisame sized him up. Utakata was a tall man, but not as tall as Kisame. Just looking at him, Kisame would never guess his true nature, the horror lurking just beneath the surface. Fitting. Perhaps that was why he got along so well with Mei. "Oh, I'm not laughing at you. In fact, I agree with you."

"What?"

"You did the right thing by safeguarding Mist's secrets and bringing that scroll back. Harusame's nothing but a coward and a bleeding heart if he can't appreciate what you did."

Utakata blanched, but outrage suited him in a way it never could most others. He grabbed Kisame by the collar of his flak vest and jerked him down a few inches to his eye level. "I've never had a problem with you, Kisame. Not even when you started fucking my best friend. Mei can do whatever she wants." He tightened his grip, and the skin on his pale fingers began to bubble with extreme chakra output. "I don't care who you are to her. You better watch what you say to me."

"Oh?" Kisame asked.

"You know exactly what I am."

The lurid chakra pent up within Utakata escaped his fingertips in swirling smoke tendrils, superheated, and singed the collar of Kisame's vest. It was too much. Kisame could no longer resist the urge to laugh.

"Your life's not precious. You're just a man," he said.

"I am _so much more_," Utakata snarled, his golden eyes blazing as molten chakra swirled in their depths.

"No, you're just like the rest of us," Kisame said, all traces of his former amusement gone as he got a really good look at Utakata and his aesthetically beautiful face. "Your life's only as precious as the demon that feeds on your bones." He grabbed Utakata's wrist and yanked his hand free.

They separated and glared at each other a moment, teetering on the brink of something much more raw and violent if only one of them would take the final threatening step. But Kisame had no interest in fighting the likes of Utakata. He had a mission to get to. Fuguki was counting on him, and Kisame had never let him down before.

So he turned his back on Utakata and walked away, resolved to track down Mei once and for all. He had not checked Mangetsu's place, now that he thought about it. She might be there. Utakata watched him go, his gaze heavy on Kisame's back, the demon crunching steadily away on his soul.

* * *

Mei stirred the small pot of hearty chicken soup slowly, watching the steam rise from the gently bubbling concoction. It was nearly finished. She grabbed the lime she'd sliced earlier from the cutting board and squeezed half of it into the soup, stirring some more. From the guest room in the back of the house, she heard coughing. Mei poured the soup in a deep bowl and grabbed a fresh spoon from the drawer. Carefully, so the soup would not spill, she made her way toward the guest room.

Ameyuri lay in the double bed with her long red hair loose and splayed across the white pillows. She wore purple pajamas, and her nose was as red as her hair from constant blowing. A small mountain of used tissues was overflowing the wastebin beside the bed. Mangetsu was in the bathroom running the sink, and four-year-old Suigetsu was hovering suspiciously near the nightstand, where Ameyuri's Kiba swords were sheathed and leaning against the wall.

"You sound like an old lady with a smoking habit with all that coughing," Mei said as she set the bowl of soup on the bed tray over Ameyuri's lap.

"Eat shit," Ameyuri grumbled as she swirled her spoon in the steaming soup aimlessly.

Mei rolled her eyes. "_You _eat. You need your strength if you want to get better."

"Who died and made you queen?" Ameyuri tasted the soup experimentally.

"I've always considered myself a queen, for your information."

"Yeah, right. If the day ever came where they put you in charge of anything, we'd all be dead and the village would burn down."

Mei frowned. "You're in a worse mood than usual. Do you have a fever?" She pressed the back of her hand to Ameyuri's clammy forehead. It was warm, but not too warm.

"I'm fine," Ameyuri said, sniffling loudly and swallowing a mouthful of soup.

Mei was not so sure. "This is the third time you've been seriously ill this year. No one gets the flu that often."

Mangetsu emerged from the bathroom and immediately checked on Suigetsu, who busied himself drumming his fingers on the nightstand totally _not _checking out Ameyuri's swords. "Don't worry, this is just Ameyuri's body finally rejecting her sour personality."

Mei bit her tongue to keep from laughing, and Ameyuri looked like she might get up and throw her piping hot soup in Mangetsu's face just to make it merge with his body when he liquefied. But before she got the chance, she coughed violently again and fumbled for the tissue box. She blew her nose as loudly as a fog horn, and the effort enervated her mind and body as she hunched over shaking. Disgusted, Ameyuri tossed the used tissue onto the trash pile. Mangetsu scooped up the bin to empty it out and peered at the newest addition to the heap. He held up the freshly used tissue between his fingers and dangled it in front of Mei and Ameyuri. The sticky mucous between the folds was a dark yellowish-green.

"See? Definitely essence of sour," he said.

"Oh, go get boiled, you fucking CamelBak," Ameyuri said.

"That's not very nice to say to me, seeing as I'm allowing you to recover in my house."

Ameyuri sniffled and returned to her soup, grumbling curses. "Only 'cause my place's a shithole and you can hardly go a day without seein' my beautiful face."

Mei grinned and caught Mangetsu's eye, but he shook his head and went to empty the wastebin. Unfortunately, the entire exchange had diverted the adults' attention from a certain three and a half foot tall domestic terrorist, known to his closest companions as Suigetsu Hozuki. Ever the opportunistic little terror, Suigetsu swiped Ameyuri's Kiba swords with a level of stealth other four-year-olds might envy and made a sneaky getaway. Almost. Ameyuri, always in tune with her favorite torture tools, noticed their absence and immediately zeroed in on Suigetsu absconding with the demonic swords. She shrieked and nearly vaulted out of bed, but she was lethargic and slow, and Mei had just enough time to snatch the bowl of soup before it spilled and yank Ameyuri back by the collar of her ridiculous purple pajamas.

Suigetsu made a run for it, a sword in each hand more than half his height and bulky in his little hands. But as fate would have it, Mangetsu intervened in the nick of time. A wondrous wall of water bubbled up and completely blocked off the exit to the small guest room, and Suigetsu yelped in surprise. He brandished the twin Kiba swords in front of him, but his arms shook with the disproportionate length and weight of them vis-à-vis his small body.

Before Suigetsu knew what had hit him, Mangetsu's arm materialized through the water barrier and grabbed one of the Kiba swords. Surprised, Suigetsu jumped back and held onto the other Kiba sword with both his hands, determined not to let Mangetsu steal it. Mangetsu stepped out from the water wall, slowly reforming, and brandished Kiba at his little brother.

"Suigetsu," he said in his best no-nonsense voice. "That's a big sword you have there. What did I say about playing with the big ones?"

"Close your eyes and it'll be over soon?" Ameyuri said.

Mei snorted with laughter, but clamped a hand over her mouth when Mangetsu shot her a dirty look.

Suigetsu was not having it and bravely slashed at Mangestu with surprising agility and grace for a four-year-old. "I don't care! _I'm _gonna be a Legendary Swordsman!"

"Not today you're goddamn not," Ameyuri said, trying to get out of bed again.

"Whoa there." Mei grabbed her arms and hauled her back into bed.

"Let go!" Ameyuri protested.

"Suigetsu, I'll only say it once," Mangetsu said. "Give me Kiba."

"No! _I'm_ the best at school with kunai! I wanna _fight_!" Suigetsu jumped and lunged at Mangetsu to prove his point.

Mangetsu expertly parried his kid brother's attack, and Suigetsu liquefied his legs to land safely and swipe low. Mei could only watch in awe as this _baby _moved about as well as she did when she was learning the art of the sword. The clang of steel filled the room as Mangetsu hunched and deflected Suigetsu's earnest attacks without really fighting back. But he got serious pretty quick and did a double feint that caught Suigetsu completely off-guard and would have cut the kid through his middle if Suigetsu had not liquefied out of pure fright and instinct. Gasping, Suigetsu tumbled to the floor and dropped Kiba. Mangetsu scooped up the second sword, now wielding both like he'd been born to do it. Suigetsu rubbed his bottom where he'd landed hard. He could not liquefy his entire body yet, only parts of it at a time. In a move that could have made even Kisame proud, Suigetsu glared up at his brother with their shared violet eyes and jutted out his lower lip.

"No _fair_!"

Mangetsu twirled the swords in his hands so that the hilts faced Suigetsu as he kneeled down. "There's no such thing as 'no fair' in a fight. There's just what you can do, and what you can't do."

Suigetsu was doing his level best not to start crying as he continued to glower at Mangetsu and rubbed his nose vigorously. They were both soaking wet from the short skirmish and making a mess on the floor.

"Okay," Suigetsu relented, averting his gaze.

Mangetsu smiled softly and rose to his full height. Suigetsu was quick to follow. "You're getting better, little brother," he said.

As if the last five minutes had been completely forgotten, Suigetsu practically beamed up at Mangetsu and basked in the small but heartfelt praise. "Really?"

"Really."

"You know what I _really _wanna know?" Ameyuri said. "How the fuck you got so good at wielding Kiba."

Mangetsu returned the twin swords to their resting place by the nightstand. "You've been sick a lot this year."

Ameyuri looked about ready to have an aneurysm. "So you've been _stealing _my Kiba to practice? You got your own damn sword!"

Mangetsu looked as smug as a cat with cream. "I like variety."

"Oh, now you've done it. How 'bout I shove Kiba so far up your ass you forget how to liquefy at all, you thieving son of a bitch—"

Mei shoved a spoonful of soup into Ameyuri's mouth before she could keep going. "You know, Suigetsu," she said, smirking, "I'm still waiting for those sharp teeth."

Suigetsu crossed his little arms. His white hair was a mess and stuck up at odd ends on his head.

"But you know, I have a good feeling about you. I think you'll be even better than Mangetsu one day."

Suigetsu's expression changed dramatically as his eyes widened and he gaped at Mei like she was some celestial being descended from on high. "You mean it?"

Ameyuri grabbed the spoon from Mei's hand and swallowed the soup she'd been fed, but she wasn't happy about it. Mei slipped off the bed and smoothed Suigetsu's unruly hair with her long fingers. She graced him with a smile, a pretty one she kept secret for the times when she felt more human than monster.

"I mean it," she said.

Suigetsu stared, a little dazzled at the idea, and couldn't help but smile back. "I'm gonna be the best damn Swordsman you ever saw."

She bit back a laugh at his poor language, anticipating some kind of backlash by Mangetsu against Ameyuri later. "I can't wait to see it."

There was a knock at the door, and Mei rose as Mangetsu went to see who was here. Suigetsu jumped up on the bed, and Ameyuri threatened him with her spoon.

"Don't you fucking _dare_, kid. I know how to use this," she said.

Mangetsu returned then with Kisame in tow, and Mei bit the inside of her cheek. It had been well over a year now since they'd begun seeing each other, if you could even call it that, and even now she still got a little rush when she saw him show up when he was least expected. His flak vest was a little burned around the collar, curiously.

"They haven't put you down yet, Ameyuri?" Kisame asked, grinning.

She flipped him off. "Nice to see you, too, Tuna Fish."

"Kisame," Mei said, moving to his side. "What're you doing here?"

He shifted, and they were just inches apart. She could feel his heat through her shirt, but she refrained from touching him in front of the others. He had a look about him like he was antsy about something, raring to go, but to where she could not say. "We have a mission," he said, angling his head down to see her better.

"Kisame!" Suigetsu said, standing up on the bed. "Look, look! I gotta sharp tooth!" He opened his mouth wide so Kisame could see.

"If you mean that tooth you chipped last week training, then I'm afraid it doesn't count," Mangetsu said.

"Does _so_!" Suigetsu stuck his tongue out at Mangetsu.

"In what universe?" Ameyuri grumbled.

But Kisame grinned and ruffled Suigetsu's damp hair. "You keep at it, kid."

Suigetsu beamed at the attention. "Y'know what? I'm the best at school!"

"That so?"

"Uh-huh!"

Mei leaned down to his eye level. "There's nobody as tough as you? Are you sure?"

Suigetsu made a face. "Well, I _guess _Chojuro's okay..."

"Chojuro?" Mei asked.

Suigetsu shrugged. "He's older, but he's real shy 'n stuff. Kind of a pussy."

Mangetsu sighed. "Suigetsu, language."

Suigetsu blushed and looked at his feet, but Kisame chuckled. "I bet he is if you say so."

"So what's this mission?" Mei asked.

Kisame regarded her. "The usual. Yagura wants it done fast. We got a lotta ground to cover."

She nodded. "I'll run home and grab my pack. Ameyuri, when I get back you better be back to normal."

"Yeah, yeah, get outta here, already. I've had enough of you for one day," Ameyuri said.

"Good luck," Mangetsu said softly.

"Hey Ameyuri, if you don't get better, I'll take good care of Kiba for you," Kisame said.

Ameyuri made a face. "You try it, and I'll carve you up like a jack-o-lantern. Believe me, it'll be an improvement for you."

He grinned and followed Mei out. She told Kisame to wait for her at the main gate while she quickly ran home to change and get her travel pack. Twenty minutes later, Mei was ready to go in her grey Jōnin flak vest, blue shinobi gi, and standard-issue arm and leg guards with a light survival pack hanging off her shoulder.

"So, who're we killing today?" she asked as they set off to the southwest.

"Spies from Stone. Three of 'em," Kisame said.

"Oh, yeah? Your Cypher Division sniff them out?"

Kisame didn't look at her as they made their way through the thin forest toward the endless moors in the distance. "Something like that."

She stopped him with a light touch on the arm once they were clear of the village limits and away from prying eyes. He cast her a glance askance, and she studied his expression, searching. "Hey, is everything okay? You seem distracted."

He paused a moment before grinning toothily, like he always did. "You know you're the only distraction in my life."

But Mei wasn't buying it. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That. Smiling when you're not happy."

"Who says I'm not happy?"

She stepped closer and had to look up at him, he was so much taller than her. Unlike at Mangetsu's place, he did not bend down to meet her and instead looked down at her over his flat nose.

"Kisame, it's me. Whatever it is, you can tell me." She ran her hand up his chest, fingers brushing the burn marks in his vest collar, wondering.

"Do you trust me?" he asked all of a sudden.

"What kind of a question is that?"

He took her hand from his chest and ran his thumb over her knuckles, staring intently like he was trying to find some imperfection in her unscarred skin. "Just a question."

"Of course I trust you."

"Why?"

Mei frowned. "You don't think I should?"

"There are things," he began, pausing to find his words. "There are things I keep, that I don't tell anyone, not even you."

"We all have secrets," she allowed. "I don't tell you everything, either."

"It's like lying," he said, still examining her hand.

Mei closed the distance between them and touched her fingers to the raised tattoos on his temple. "It's okay to keep some things secret. It's not a lie, it's just human."

"Human," he repeated, finally looking at her.

"Well, we're not birds or something."

She smiled, that smile she saved when she wasn't trying to disarm and distract, but the real one that wanted nothing in return.

"Hah, no, we're not."

Satisfied, Mei hooked an arm around his neck and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He let her and soon had her by the waist, a hand tangled in her ponytail. It was unhurried and drawn out, not like their usual feverish rush in their haste to close the space between them. She smiled into the kiss as he held her close, memorizing this feeling. It was tempting to hold onto him, make him stay and waste the rest of the afternoon away just the two of them. They'd done it so many times before, and it never got old. Still, he seemed hesitant right now, like his mind was elsewhere, so she pulled away and searched his eyes.

"You wanna go murder some spies together?" she asked.

"Are you _trying_ to get me hard?"

"Is it working?"

He flashed her a grin, showing off his pearly sharp teeth. Mei bit her lip.

"Come on," he said. "We can play later. Right now, I want to cut someone."

* * *

Approximately three weeks, a chronic headache, and budding anger management issues later, Mei and Kisame had finally tracked down and slaughtered the third and final Stone spy after chasing him as far as the mainland. He'd gotten wind of their pursuit after finding out about his allies mysteriously being murdered one after another and tried to flee the country like a fucking coward. Mei was not happy about having to traverse the innumerable deserted islands between Water and Hill Countries, but Kisame seemed to become ever more invigorated as the chase dragged on. He started dictating his plans for what he would do when they finally caught the little punk, each iteration more gruesome than the last.

When they inevitably cornered the spy because there was no way this slimeball was eluding Mei Terumī and Kisame Hoshigaki when they were out for blood, Mei stopped him dead in his tracks with the threat of lava, and Kisame revealed a new technique he'd been working on—the Water Prison. Mei wiped the cooled lava from her lips and watched as Kisame summoned water from out of thin air to swirl around and entrap the spy, a skinny middle-aged man built for the underbelly of society rather than among ninja. The enchanted water suspended him in a perfect sphere while Kisame powered it with a hand in the dome. The spy held his breath and tried in vain to break out, but Kisame's chakra did not bend under the spy's best efforts.

"How did you do that?" Mei asked. "There's no water around here for miles. Not since we landed on the coast."

Kisame kept his focus on his slow drowning technique. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Mei sidled up behind him and draped her arms around his shoulder lazily. "Why Kisame, are you _flirting_ with me?"

"Always, Gorgeous," he said, a little distracted as he watched the spy squirm and slowly run out of air.

The spy held his throat and his eyes began to bulge as he struggled to hold on. Mei pulled at the zipper of Kisame's vest and dragged her nails across his exposed chest while the spy watched them from his watery prison, slowly slipping into darkness. She stood on on her tiptoes and kissed Kisame's severe jawline, insistent, and he stiffened, snaking a hand around her hip in a bruising grip. The spy gagged, no longer able to withstand the pressure, and convulsed as chakra-enhanced water filled his lungs. It was over in a few seconds, and he fell still as he hunched over in the center of the water prison, drowned to death.

Kisame removed his hand from the bubble, and it collapsed with the spy inside, who tumbled to the grassy ground in a soggy heap. Kisame immediately turned his full attention on Mei and all but ripped her vest off. She laughed, her hands just as eager and impatient, and soon they were backed up against a tree with nothing between them but their heat. He was rough and unforgiving, as always, and she pulled him closer, silently demanding more.

Mei pushed him down onto the grass, the sunlight subtle gold through the leafy canopy above and casting shadows on his bared chest beneath her. She ran her hands over him as she moved, enjoying their inverted position and looking down on him. He noticed her wicked smile and tried to flip them, but she drew the kunai she kept on her person at all times and pressed it between his ribs, just hard enough to nick the skin. That was the tipping point, and he sat up and grabbed her roughly by the hair to pull her into a crushing kiss, teeth and tongue and drowning. Mei dropped her kunai, and they fell back to the ground together, losing all sense of time and place.

The spy lay contorted on the ground a few feet away, his eyes open and glazed as he stared up at the canopy and the blue sky beyond. Mei studied him as she stretched out and gathered up her clothing. Kisame buttoned his pants and was working on slipping his arm guards back on when she rose, dressed again, hair a beautifully tousled mess, and slipped her arms around his shoulders from behind.

"What about him?" she asked. "Want to bring him home?"

Kisame finished his adjustments and turned in her embrace to face her. "Not really. He's no trophy."

"Good. Either way, I would've made you carry the head."

"Made me? Are you sure about that?"

She ran her fingers playfully through his hair and broke their contact. "I can be persuasive."

He muttered something under his breath but didn't argue, and soon they were leaping through the canopy back toward the coast a few miles out, their mission completed. Mei had never spent much time on the mainland. It was so different from her native Water Country. The greenery was overwhelming compared to the rocky islands, sandy beaches, and foggy moors that characterized her home. The forest was so thick here, in fact, that she could not see much farther than about fifteen or twenty feet ahead of her. And it was far warmer even in the early spring months here than it was in Water Country, where storms were frequent and the sky was almost always overcast and gloomy. But it was home, she reasoned.

_Home..._

If nothing else, it was the only home she had. She stole a glance at Kisame running next to her, elegant despite his rather large size and rough appearance.

"_It's home because you're here," _Utakata had confided all those years ago.

It was home because of Kisame, too. And Mangetsu, and Ameyuri, and all the others she'd come to know growing up a daughter of the Bloody Mist. Now, she could not imagine Mist without them, or them without Mist. Sunny days and lush green trees were all well and good, but it was not home. It was not Mei.

As they soared through the treetops and Mei let her mind wander a bit, she was slow to recognize the danger she and Kisame were stumbling into without even realizing it. The trees seemed suddenly to blend together and go on interminably, though she was sure she could hear the sound of breaking waves in the distance not long ago. Now, there was not even the wind. The air was hot and shimmering, and her sight was so hyper-focused all of a sudden that she could see the veins in the leaves she passed. Next to her, Kisame had begun to slow as he, too, realized something was wrong.

_Genjutsu_, Mei thought, suddenly afraid.

They had walked right into it without even knowing it, which meant the caster had to be someone of monstrous skill and finesse. She and Kisame stopped, and he nearly lost his balance on the tree branch, queasy. Mei felt the urge to vomit in the pit of her stomach and tried to steady herself against the tree trunk. She caught Kisame's gaze, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. Breathing heavily, Mei struggled to perform the seal she needed, and Kisame crouched down on his branch, perspiring from the debilitating effects of the powerful genjutsu.

It took more effort than she feared she had in her body to expel the acidic mist from her body, like the moment of temporary paralysis between sleep and waking when the body is nothing but a comatose meat sack but the consciousness is awake and trapped inside. Mei shook with the effort, bile rising in her throat and evaporating as it joined the poisonous haze she spat up and allowed to engulf her. Not two seconds later, her stomach plummeted in a ghastly free-falling sensation, and all of a sudden she could breathe again. The Genjutsu was dispelled, and whoever was responsible was fleeing to escape the miasma she'd created.

"Kisame!" she gasped, jumping to catch him before he could fall.

He was groggy, still paralyzed, so Mei drew the shortsword Ganryū had given her for her eighteenth birthday just weeks ago and sliced a thin shallow gash in his arm. The jolt of pain was enough to break the trance, and he jerked awake as if from a deep sleep. It only took him a moment to get his bearings and switch to the defensive as Mei's acidic mist began to dissipate all around them.

"Who's there?" she demanded. "Come out, or I'll burn the forest down with you in it."

There was rustling in the canopy up ahead, and two people in painted red and white masks emerged. They wore shinobi uniforms, black and white, and each carried katana on their backs. Before Mei could say a word, Kisame beat her to it.

"Well, well, well, Leaf ANBU," he drawled. "You're a little far from home."

More movement behind them, and Mei glanced over her shoulder and spotted two more Konoha ANBU, also in masks. Surrounded. _Not good._

"So are you," said the taller of the two masked ANBU in front of Kisame and Mei. His voice was muffled, but he sounded young and confident. Never a good combination. "I assume it was you two who killed that man?"

_Is he stalling? _Mei thought. If she could get him talking, maybe she and Kisame could make their escape.

"He was a spy," Mei said, laying a hand on Kisame's shoulder in a silent gesture she hoped he could understand. "It was our duty to eliminate him. We don't have any quarrel with you, Konoha."

"Are you in such a hurry to get back to the Bloody Mist?" asked the lone woman of the Konoha team from her position behind Mei.

Mei had to bite her tongue to keep her temper in check. It was one thing for Mist nin to talk about her home that way, but foreigners who had no connection and no _right_ were way out of line. "Are you in such a hurry to die?" she shot back.

The woman, a petite but muscular specimen with long purple hair, drew her katana. "Try it, bitch. Or maybe it's your pet monster who fights your battles."

Kisame shifted just so under her palm, and Mei smirked at the ANBU woman. "Careful," she said. "You don't know who you're talking to."

The first ANBU, presumably the leader, spoke again. "Mist has no business on the mainland. If you won't leave quietly, then we'll be forced to—"

The guy never got a chance to finish his rehearsed threat because all of a sudden, Kisame, in an inhuman display of speed and dexterity for one so large and bulky, shot across the canopy and drew his nodachi so fast and so hard that it split through the leaves and the branch where the shorter ANBU was standing, silent. But the ANBU was fast, too, and jumped backwards with a gasp of terror. His white vest tore, and blood squirted from his shoulder. Kisame's skillful blade moved so fast that the ANBU's painted mask split in two and fell to the ground. The ANBU regrouped a distance away, his partner-leader quick to follow, while the female ANBU in back shouted a curse.

But as impressive as Kisame's skill with the blade was and Mei's earlier determination to use the distraction to slip away, she found that she could not move. Not because of another genjutsu or other paralytic, but because of what was now plain for all to see. The ANBU Kisame had attacked was not just a particularly short man, but a _child_. His face was still round with the last of his baby fat, and a shallow red cut now ran across his forehead and left temple where the tip of Kisame's sword had sliced him. Red like his eyes that spun with the infamous doujutsu, Sharingan. An Uchiha child. He could not have been more than ten years old.

_That genjutsu,_ Mei thought, horrified. _It was his Sharingan..._

A monstrous child.

"Itachi!" the older ANBU said, rushing to his aid.

_Itachi Uchiha. _

"I'm fine," Itachi said, wiping his face of the thin trickle of blood that collected at his chin. He was panting, spooked, but those ruby red eyes spoke of a terrible power and tranquility far beyond his young years.

"Huh," Kisame said, watching Itachi. "You got death in your soul, kid. I can _smell_ it on you."

Itachi said nothing, those beautiful ruby eyes glittering in the muted sunlight through the canopy.

"Don't move!" commanded the fourth member of the ANBU team, the woman's partner still positioned behind Kisame and Mei.

"Tenzou, Yugao, hold!" the captain commanded.

The confusion was beginning to wane, and Mei knew the window was closing. Kisame sensed it, too, despite his temporary surprise at the revelation that a fucking _child _had caught him in a debilitating genjutsu. He tensed, ready to spring at any moment. Any moment, as it happened, was now. Before anyone could react, Kisame drew a breath and spat out a thick column of water directly at Itachi. But the kid was fast and flew through a series of hand seals. He opened his mouth, and a tremendous fireball roiled and rocketed toward Kisame. Their jutsu clashed with a steaming hiss that sent the temperature in the warm canopy skyrocketing for a moment. Mei sheathed her shortsword and moved before she even processed what had happened.

Yugao, katana poised, launched into the air and delivered a devastating Wind Release slash that cut through the very air and sliced a chunk of Mei's hair clean off before she could barely leap to safety. Flying through a round of hand seals, Mei sent a tremor through the earth below and summoned a thick rock spire that shot straight up through the branches to impale Yugao. But her partner intervened.

It was surreal, like a child's nightmare when she's afraid of the dark. But this was real. The trees came _alive_ and went after Mei as though they had a personal grudge. The branch she was balancing on twisted and caught her by the ankle, while another tree branch grew impossibly fast and would have impaled her through the chest if she didn't have enough upper-body strength to pull herself up and narrowly avoid it. Nevertheless, the rushing wood grazed her back and shoulder, ripping her clothing and tearing open her skin with a thousand splinters that burned like she'd been stuck with a fire poker. She cried out and fumbled for a kunai to cut free her ankle.

Kisame noticed her plight and summoned a Water Dragon out of nothing at all that collided with the enchanted wood, splintering it before it could run Mei through completely. He landed on the branch that trapped her and broke it with his bare hands, pulling her up. There was no time to thank him because Itachi and his captain had recovered enough to come after them directly.

Itachi leaped into the air like a bullet, small and quick, and Kisame followed him with his eyes. It was his undoing because suddenly, Itachi pulled Kisame into another genjutsu that made him convulse with otherworldly pain. Mei gasped as she reached for Kisame before he could fall and supported his weight over her shoulder. But the ANBU captain came at her with his sword, quick as lightning, and behind her Yugao was also poised to cut her to ribbons. The branches shifted again, and Tenzou the tree whisperer prepared to trap Mei in a wooden cage where she and Kisame would be powerless to escape, much less fight back. She could feel them all closing in, hyenas to the slaughter.

It pissed her off. They had _no idea _who they were dealing with, these _children_ who thought numbers could save them, that masks could hide them from her wrath. Not today, goddamnit. Not _any _day. There was one benefit to hubris, that celebrated tragic flaw, and it was the sheer determination to win no matter the cost. Mei was determined as hell.

She summoned her chakra and released the familiar burning in her throat, letting her fury fuel it. Molten lava burst from her mouth in a spout that moved according to her chakra and expanded around Kisame and herself like a sentient tornado. Tenzou's wood caught fire and turned to ash on contact, and Yugao screamed in terror as she scrambled backwards to avoid the deadly magma vortex. But Mei was not about to let any of them escape her wrath. With a burst of chakra, she manipulated the lava to separate into a hundred small bullets and expand.

They were not fast, not like Kisame and not like Itachi. But they were a hundred years of agony in a droplet, and they were merciless. Making good on her promise, Mei's lava immolated the forest in a thirty-foot radius in all directions, pockmarks of fire and char where the lava hit the trees and the grass below. Like weeping sores, the fiery wounds infected the trees as the lava slowly trickled down their trunks, burning everything in its wake. There was hardly a conflagration. The magma was so hot and so potent that the surfaces it touched went from healthy wood to ashes in the blink of an eye.

But because the lava bullets were not fast, the Konoha ANBU were able to escape the worst of them. Tenzou threw up a wooden barrier that took the brunt of the attack while protecting Yugao and himself, while Itachi's Sharingan slowed down reality enough for him to move faster than time and avoid the bullets. The captain, however, had been nearly upon Mei when she launched her attack and did not escape unscathed. Lava splashed his mask and the front of his ANBU vest, and he scrambled to rip both off his person before he was incinerated along with them. Itachi was forced to break the torturous genjutsu he'd placed on Kisame to help his captain, and Mei took the opportunity to jump to safety where the Konoha ANBU could not surround her. Lava pooled on the ground, congealing but still teeming with her chakra.

"Fuck," Kisame said, clutching his head and shaking a little.

"Kisame, are you okay?" she asked, helping him stand on his own.

"Yeah." He shook himself out and rubbed his face. His hands were still shaking. Whatever Itachi had put him through had cut deeply. "Hell of a ride."

He was grinning despite his labored breathing, and for a moment Mei was a little bit appalled by his inhuman resilience. Many had called him a monster for his strange appearance, his incredible chakra reserves, his skill with the sword shared by few others except the ones they called Legendary. For a very brief moment, Mei saw what they saw, the true face of Kisame's demon, not the blue skin and the tattoos and the sharp teeth, but the part that made him a force of nature when he got going. The part that could take multiple of Itachi's genjutsu and get back up, draw closer, until all that was left was the killing blow. And in that moment, she felt safer by his side than she ever had before with any other person.

Itachi had successfully helped his captain rid himself of the burning mask and vest, and they regrouped far enough away to be out of earshot. Mei scanned the four Konoha ANBU, debating what to do next.

"I say we burn them to the ground," Mei said.

"I _really_ love your enthusiasm," Kisame said, regaining his grip on his nodachi as he prepared to attack again.

The ANBU were moving again, getting ready to surround Kisame and Mei again, but the Mist nin were not about to let them. Separating, they began to power up their best jutsu to completely overwhelm the enemy in one devastating blow. Mei flew through a round of hand seals and summoned her lava in the shape of a roaring dragon that hurtled through the trees. Tenzou tried to give it something to burn and force it to lose momentum with his wooden walls, but the molten dragon ate right through them as though they were nothing but flimsy rice paper barriers. Kisame, meanwhile, channeled his incredible chakra reserves and conjured a mystical wall of water out of thin air that swept through the canopy chasing Mei's lava dragon. Together, they drowned the forest and everything in it as their combined power attacks closed in on the ANBU.

But then, the strangest thing happened. Some of Kisame's conjured water began to churn and swirl angrily, and as though possessed, it reversed its course and slammed into the rest of the great wave with a deafening smack. The tidal waves collided and soaked everyone and everything in the vicinity. The force of the storm waves was enough to split trees and send Mei flying. She landed hard against a thin tree trunk, her back exploding in pain. Her lava dragon was drowned in the collision and dissipated into scorching hot steam that shriveled the leaves of the canopy, exposing the sun above.

"What the hell was that?" Kisame said, more amused than pissed off. "How did you do that?"

The ANBU captain, now sans mask and vest, glared at Kisame with mismatched eyes. Unbelievably, one of his eyes glowed red with the Sharingan, though he did not look much like an Uchiha. "Thanks for the new move," he said.

Mei stared openly at the unmasked captain. _It couldn't be... _His hair was longer and even more unruly than it had been all those years ago, and his voice was deeper, more masculine, older. He possessed a power now that he hadn't back then, a lone Sharingan eye that, from the looks of it, had allowed him to copy Kisame's killing wave technique and use it against him. But he still wore the cloth mask over his mouth and nose, and that arrogant streak she remembered in him had not abated.

"Kakashi Hatake," she said, incredulous.

"Who?" Kisame said.

Kakashi heard her name him and caught her eye. There was a flicker of something there, recognition perhaps, but he did not know her right away. "You..." he said, almost in question.

"Hey, it's rude to steal somebody else's secret technique," Kisame taunted. "I want it _back_!"

Kisame lunged for Kakashi without warning, nodachi drawn and ready to strike. Kakashi leaped backwards and flew through a round of hand seals that Mei recognized almost instantly. _No way..._

The water from Kisame's magnificent killing wave gathered and rose from the earth in the shape of a great dragon that roared and hurtled straight for Kisame. Kisame burst out laughing and slashed at the water dragon, a blur of blue and grey disrupting the chakra pathways powering the dragon. Itachi and Yugao were ready to intervene, however, with a Great Fireball and some seriously quick swordsmanship. Kisame was forced to parry Yugao's attacks, and Itachi's fireball forced them apart again as they fled from certain incineration.

"You're nothing but an imposter, a copycat, Kakashi Hatake," Kisame said. "A copy-ninja."

"_No matter how strong and special you think you are, there will always be someone better."_

Mei watched, arrested, as she recalled Ganryū's wise warning to her when he'd first begun training her after the Chuunin exams.

"_Ah, you've already met someone like that, haven't you?"_

"You want an original technique? Then I'm happy to oblige," Kakashi said.

His left arm began to crackle with electricity, and the sound of a thousand chirping birds echoed in the deadened forest Mei and Kisame had razed almost totally to the ground. Lightning engulfed Kakashi's arm to the shoulder and made his Sharingan glow like a specter.

"_In all your arrogance, you'll never know what hit you."_

"Kisame!" Mei shouted, but she was already moving without waiting for him to listen.

Kisame readied his sword, prepared to meet Kakashi head-on, but that lightning smelled of death and Mei had always been arrogant, besides. Kisame slashed and Kakashi jumped, while Tenzou backed him up with more searching branches that hunted anything that moved. Mei spat out a thick stream of lava directly at Kakashi, who saw her coming just in time with the aid of his stolen Sharingan. They locked gazes for just a moment, and then her lava forced his hand. Electricity jumped between them as he grazed her shoulder, and her lava chewed through the various moving branches Tenzou had summoned to support Kakashi. In a split second, smoke and sparks filled the space between Mei and Kakashi, cutting them off.

But Kakashi's ego was not one to be deterred, not in the Chuunin exams and certainly not now. He grabbed Mei's arm, shocking her with the last vestiges of his attack, and she grunted in pain. Instinctively, she swiped with her curved kunai and almost smiled in morbid satisfaction at the feel of her blade connecting with the flesh of his shoulder. Suspended on Tenzou's twisted branches, they faced off in a deadly stalemate. A scar bisected his Sharingan eye, she noticed.

"I remember you," Kakashi said, searching her face. "That Lava Release... You're Mei Terumī."

"_I_ remember that I beat you the last time we fought," she spat as she dug her kunai deeper into his flesh.

He blinked, the only indication that he felt any pain at all. "Well, I never give repeat performances."

"You'll never give _any _performances again after today!"

She ripped her kunai through his shoulder and he loosened his grip on her just long enough to break free. Her arm throbbed where his electricity had drawn electrical burns along her skin and fried her sleeve. She could already feel the welts forming under her shirt. Kisame, meanwhile, was now under attack by both Yugao and Itachi, sword and Sharingan working in tandem to try to catch him in another petrifying genjutsu. But Kisame was fast and had a shit ton more chakra than most people. He was already summoning another killer wave out of nowhere to put some distance between his small attackers and himself.

"Kakashi!" Tenzou said.

"I'm fine," Kakashi said, signaling to his teammate to regroup. "Back me up."

He was summoning another water dragon in no time, this time to attack Mei directly, and she was forced to run.

"You thief!" she shouted. "How dare you steal Mist's secret techniques!"

Kakashi's water dragon slammed into a tree in which Mei had been standing just a breath earlier, but it reformed and went after her again. She dropped to the ground and zigzagged between the trees to get away from it, but the dragon kept coming.

"It's not stealing if I give it back!" Kakashi shouted down at her. He jumped down from the destroyed canopy and began to pursue her over land.

Tenzou was also in pursuit, and the very landscape turned against Mei as she ran. An entire oak tree uprooted itself and bent to constrict her like a snake, and it was all Mei could do to fire off a last-minute Earth Release technique and swallowed the tree in one gulp like a sink hole. She jumped over the pit it created and continued weaving among the trees. But the dragon was fast and sucked up the leaves, grass, and mud in its path as it hurtled after Mei. As though the earth itself had spat up the demon, it reared over her and roared.

Mei dug her booted feet into the muddy ground, determined not to run any longer. If he wanted a fight, she'd give him the last one he'd ever be in. Summoning her chakra once more, Mei channeled everything she had into a powerful spray of lava that collided with Kakashi's water dragon. The beast swallowed the molten magma and burst into steam as it hit Mei. She shielded her face, but the superheated steam cooked her in her clothes even as she rolled to avoid the brunt of it. Searing pain painted her body down to her toes, and her bare hands were red from the abuse they'd taken. Shaking, she staggered to her feet and wiped her mouth. In between Kakashi and Tenzou to the west and herself to the east, a bubbling sea of lava steamed. There was no sight of Kakashi's water dragon anymore, but the quarter mile of forest it had chased Mei through was almost completely decimated. Heat rose from the lava in shimmering waves, giving Kakashi and Tenzou beside him a spectral appearance, like a mirage.

"Kakashi, this is too dangerous," Tenzou said. "That lava..."

Kakashi ignored his teammate. "Mei," he called, his lone Sharingan trained on her. "You've gotten stronger, but you can't beat my team. We outnumber you two to one."

"Come over here and say that to my face," she taunted, wiping sweat and grime from her forehead.

They watched each other across the deadly magma sea that divided them, just waiting, though Mei could not say for what. She could hear the sounds of Kisame's battle with Yugao and Itachi, steel on steel, and knew they needed to end this if they wanted to escape with their lives. Kakashi was right, unfortunately. The Konoha ANBU outnumbered them, and they were damn strong.

"You're different," Kakashi said, his expression annoyingly unreadable behind that infernal mask he wore over his mouth and nose. "What happened to that grubby little girl I fought back in Cloud?"

Kisame came crashing through the canopy, an enormous fiery lance hot on his tail that burned through the trees like a hot knife through butter, and landed a few yards away. He was bleeding from a cut on his right breast, but otherwise appeared unharmed. Yugao, bleeding heavily from a deep wound across her back, ran after him, while Itachi brought up the rear as he released his fire technique. If Mei and Kisame were going to make their move, it had to be now.

"What's the matter, Kakashi?" Mei said, stalling for time as she called upon the last dregs of her chakra for one final disappearing act. "You don't like my new look?"

Tenzou was done waiting for the lava to cool and suddenly summoned tree roots from below ground. They arced over the bubbling magma like a bridge toward Mei. "Now!" he shouted.

Kakashi ran toward the bridge, and Mei backed up toward Kisame just as Yugao was closing in on him.

"Kisame!" Mei shouted.

They were back to back in no time, and Mei opened her mouth as Kakashi and Tenzou raced toward her. Kakashi's left arm began to spark with lightning once again, but he was too late, and he knew it. Shock and anger were the last sight of him she saw as she opened her mouth and released a thick cloud of mist that quickly spread through the ruined forest and blocked out the sun. Kisame raised water from the muddy ground saturated with the effects of Kakashi's water dragon, and together they conjured a miasma that swept toward the Konoha attackers, engulfing them completely and hiding Mei and Kisame from view. Yugao swore and called out for Kakashi.

"I can't see a thing!" Yugao said.

Mei and Kisame were already moving together, silent as the grave, as Mei manipulated the mist to keep them carefully shrouded. Footsteps closed in on them, and a sickening snapping sound alerted them to Tenzou shooting in the dark with his killer wood. He missed them, completely blind in this haze.

"Damnit, the mist is too thick," he said. "Itachi, can you find them?"

There was silence as Mei and Kisame paused, wondering if the Sharingan would be their undoing. Kisame raised his hand in a seal and prepared to turn the mist into a killer wave if necessary.

"This is no ordinary mist," Itachi said somewhere to the right. "It's oversaturated with chakra."

Mei's heart raced. _He can't pick us out from all our chakra in the air._

Kisame picked up on what she was thinking, and they shared a significant look. He gestured silently to the east, the direction of the sea and their way home. Mei nodded and drew her shortsword, and they began to move again. He went first, and she tailed him, careful to move the mists along with her and disperse her chakra signature to fool Itachi's Sharingan.

All of a sudden, Mei heard the song of steel and realized she'd lost track of Kisame. He chuckled somewhere to her right, and she froze.

"Itachi!" Yugao shouted. Footsteps, farther away.

Kisame laughed again, now to Mei's left, and she could have screamed. He was _toying_ with them when their priority should have been to get away! Mei clutched her shortsword and swallowed hard. She trusted Kisame, there was no way he'd put their lives at risk for a game. She just had to keep moving.

"Aahhh!" Yugao screamed, but she was immediately silenced with an awful gurgling sound.

"Yugao!" Tenzou shouted farther back. "Where are you? Yugao!"

Mei shifted her chakra within the mist and felt the presence of three figures gathered close together. Kisame had instigated his Water Prison technique, this time on Yugao, who was fighting frantically to get out. Itachi found her and slashed mercilessly at Kisame as he powered the technique, but it was merely a water clone that dissolved on contact. With the clone gone, the Water Prison dissolved, too, and Yugao collapsed to the ground and gagged.

"S-Son of a bitch," she spat.

Mei skated by them, light of foot, as Tenzou shouted and fumbled through the mist to get to them. She caught a glimpse of Itachi and Yugao hunched over on the ground together, and for a dreadful second she was sure Itachi could see her through the mist. He stared right at her with his Sharingan, but he could not pick her out through the amorphous and continuous spread of her chakra. Despite the gravity of the situation, Mei could not help but stop and look at him, just a boy fighting alongside seasoned warriors twice his age. Such pretty eyes, such a cute face, so familiar with death. Not a child at all. He looked away, never having seen her at all, and called out to Tenzou.

"Over here," he said, calm as still waters.

Mei faded back into the mists and headed east after Kisame. She had to get out of here before the ANBU regrouped. A figure moved in the mist just ahead, and for a split second she was sure it was Kisame. But when he came into view, Mei had to stifle a gasp and jerked to a stop. Leaves crunched lightly underfoot, and the figure whirled and moved. Mei summoned the mists to surround her, but he was already upon her and all she could do was defend with her shortsword when his katana came crashing down.

Caught in a bewildered stalemate, Mei found herself inches away from Kakashi's masked face, his mismatched eyes boring into hers and just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. This close up, she saw how truly stunning the Sharingan was, red like a summer sunset. The contrast with his true eye was so jarring that she could only wonder at what he must have gone through, what pain he must have endured, to acquire this aberrant power. He seemed to be watching her, too, as they stood at a silent impasse for a few breaths.

"Where'd they go?" Yugao said as she continued to cough up water from her near-drowning.

"It doesn't matter," Tenzou said. "You need a hospital. We should retreat for now. This wasn't even our mission."

"Captain," Itachi called.

But Kakashi was a little busy at the moment. He had not called out to his team, and Mei was sure that if he engaged her in hand-to-hand combat now after the draining battle they'd had, he would surely overpower her. Even now, she recalled vividly his skill with the sword during the Chuunin Exams. After so many years, she could only imagine that Kakashi's skills had improved tremendously, perhaps putting him on par with the likes of Ganryū. She gritted her teeth and pushed back against him. Ganryū had taught her quite a few new tricks, too.

"Kakashi," she whispered, desperate and frustrated and furious that she'd let herself get caught like this.

The mists swirled around them, as though transporting them to another dimension where only the dead dwelled, a cold and lonely Eden meant for monsters. But strangely, she felt him ease up and pull back. He separated from her, careful to keep her in his sights, and lowered his weapon. Mei could not believe what was happening.

"Kakashi!" Tenzou called. "Damnit, he better be okay."

Mei snapped out of her confusion and immediately made a run for it. But Kakashi did not try to stop her, and the mists swallowed him as she left him behind.

"I'm here," she heard him call out, far away as though through water. "I'm all right."

He faded behind her, and she was running as fast as she could now to the east. The leaves and grass soon turned to sand underfoot, and her palm sweated against the metal grip of her shortsword, but she dared not let go of it. Kisame was there on the shore, sword drawn and walking back toward the forest when he saw her burst forth.

"Where the hell were you?" he demanded. "I thought you were right behind me."

"I'm fine, let's get out of here," Mei said, winded. She sheathed her sword.

Kisame didn't need to be told twice and sheathed his nodachi. Together, they took off at a hard sprint over the water toward the nearest island a few miles out. From there, they would hop from island to island on the way back to the main stretch of land that was Water Country proper. _Home. _

Mei dared not look back as she ran east, suddenly realizing she was shaking, and not from the aching pain of her many injuries. She could not get the image of Kakashi's grotesque mismatched eyes out of her mind, the idea that he'd either been subjected to a transplant against his will or done the deed himself, all for power. What else was there? And Itachi, the child soldier that had fought toe to toe with Kisame and her like he'd been doing this for as long as he could walk.

Kisame, as always, was a steady presence beside her, looming and powerful and familiar, safe. The face of a monster, but the heart of an ally and so much more. But monsters, whether created or born, horrific or beautiful, are still monsters.

"Hey," Kisame said as they ran. "You okay?"

But perhaps it was not the sharp teeth or the pretty eyes or the masks that made them monsters, she thought as she ran across the water, defying the laws of nature. Perhaps it was the things that remain unseen, the shadows twisting just out of sight. The secrets we keep, from ourselves and from each other.

_Why did he let me go?_

"Yeah, I'm fine," she lied.

She bit her tongue so hard it began to bleed.

* * *

_Before anyone brings it up because somebody always inevitably does, canon Akatsuki Itachi is uber, yeah, but not at 10 years old. Come on, he didn't pop out of the womb as the god shinobi he eventually became. He had to learn and bleed and sweat like everybody else, but he just spent less time doing it than most others before he achieved perfection. So I think it's pretty reasonable for him to stumble a bit against Mei and Kisame right now, who are older and more experienced at this point. Plus, he didn't have the Mangekyou Sharingan yet. It's not that I don't like Itachi (I really do), but you get the point._


End file.
